Christmas 2017, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

Christmas, 2017

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

We all know

Whose birthday it is today:

 

Yours.

 

Throughout the womb

Of this dark year

Of tyrants and blindness,

You formed yourself

Afresh and full of doing.

 

You made it, you did it.

You are born today,

A child of light, wonderful,

A counselor I am sure

To someone, and yes, why not—

Mighty Divine Being,

Everlasting, non-gendered—

Unless you want a gender—

Person, and Prince, Princess,

Fairy Queen, Unicorn Badass,

Of Peace.

 

And for all of you

Thinking this poem is

Heretical—grow up,

Or down, whichever you need,

And while doing so

Look into the eyes of your friends,

See oceans of mysterious wisdom

Reflecting back at you,

And know you reflect back

The same, and know too,

The mirror reflects a light

Begotten and holy and never before

Seen or felt or known

On this planet.  You

Are born today anew

To save the world

By being who you

Are born to be.

 

And if your heart or life

Or room feels like a manger,

That’s alright for today,

And even for tomorrow—

Let the kindly animals

With the luminous, marble eyes

Come and nibble from your hands,

Laugh and chortle as you grow,

As you know, every time

You hear the word: Jesus,

Christ, God—they are

Referring to you.

 

Born today you are,

Born today you ever will be,

Born today, this day

Of days, you are here,

A star, a child, the magi,

A lamb, a shepherd, an angel,

A parent to yourself

Who may be being told

In a dream to move on

To safer lands—rejoice,

You are here, rejoice

You are the light, rejoice

The safer land is there,

In your voice creating the world.

 

 

 


How Shall I Compare Thee?

How Shall I Compare Thee?
By
Joseph Anthony Petro

 
Some compare life to the layers of an onion,
And how fitting—how easily, once cut especially,
The layers fall away, and yes, there are the tears.
There are those.

Some compare life to a rose—
Thorns, fragrant, exquisitely beautiful,
And when you struggle to find the center
It all unravels and is no longer a rose.

Some compare life to the sea—
Deep (obviously), ebbing and flowing,
Full of dark mysteries and storms,
Leviathans, and beings made of light,
Seemingly endless in its distance,
Moon kissed, full of tears, and sun-drenched
Waves of desire.

Use anything–the mirror even,
Just begin, go on, try. Try to compare life
To anything on earth or in the heavens.
This is not a challenge or a call to fail.
This is a plea to encourage you to look,
To search. Find places, beings, other people,
Feelings, images, objects that resonant
With your heart, your body, your experience
Of breath and of grief, of joy, and of divinity,
Of growing and becoming, of withering,
And blossoming.

Why? Why do this?
Isn’t it effectively separating yourself from yourself
And others? Not for me. This exercise, this discipline,
This holy, unquenchable fire
Helps me sort it all out, helps me discover myself
In the world and the world in myself, it helps me to see you
And allow myself to be seen by you, or else I am alone,
Somehow outside the circle of God, as silly
As that sounds. And of course, it’s just a suggestion,
Like everything else in life that is truly alive.

We get hints while moving towards
A fullness that culminates in a blessed emptying–
Fountain into fountain, river into sea, image
Into image, love into love.
So take the suggestion
As it is given—a passing brush stroke across the canvas
Of your life.