A Second Thought, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

A Second Thought

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

You have been with me

Since the beginning

Even though

I no longer remember

The first time

You filled me,

Sending me wailing

From the initial revelation.

From that moment

Until now–

I have rarely given you

A second thought.

 

You enter, touching my nose,

And lips, and then

Filter through me,

Spreading life, only to then

Disappear into my cells.

You make my chest rise and fall,

Ebb and flow, enlivening me

Over and over,

Again, and again,

Moment after moment,

Year after year,

And you do so largely

In relative silence and secret.

 

I think of you when I feel

The need to catch you,

Or hold you, or focus

On you for a guided meditation,

Or watch you ghost out

Of my mouth in winter.

 

You shimmer through me,

I know you are there,

I want you to stay,

Even though one day

You will sail out of my body

For good, onto the billowing winds,

To gently, unobtrusively,

Fill the body of another—

Another who will,

In all likelihood, hardly ever

Give you a second thought.

 

So here, now,

I think of you in as full

Consciousness as I can muster,

I feel you filling my every

Cell and vein with kindness.

Thank you for being

My friend, my guide,

My most intimate companion

On my journey

Of letting you go.

 

 


 

 

All donations go to medical bills and groceries. <3


 

 

 

 


Including You, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

Including You

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

Now that autumn is in full gear

And the air fills the lungs with letting go breaths,

The time has come once again

When the slant of light catches you off guard

And you find yourself weeping

Watching the precipitation from the trees

Vesturing the ground with red and gold.

 

There is nothing you can do.

The allegory of the leaves and change

Has been around as long as trees themselves.

You cannot get around letting go.

 

And there are times letting go turns

Into a flood of things sailing away

Just beyond your reach into a day full of cidered light–

And you can only watch, or try

 

To look away, nevertheless parts of your life

Will be draped on the ground like so many

Torn shards of shifts and shirts

And they will be there waiting for you

To witness their being caught down in unavoidable winds

And you will be left with either becoming

Hard, like a tree whose blood slows to frozen,

 

Or ebullient like a flower girl at a wedding, tossing

Rose petals along the aisle where death

Sits on one side and life on the other,

And your processional of letting go distracts everyone

Momentarily from the marriage about to happen

That will leave everyone, including you,

Searching frantically inside

For the one they used to love.

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 





Nursing the Dark, Eating the Light, a Fable, by Radiance Angelina Petro

Nursing the Dark, Eating the Light

A Fable

by

Radiance Angelina Petro

 

 

One day, an acorn and a cicada nymph were talking underground, when a beam of light suddenly appeared shining down on the acorn.

“What is that?” asked the acorn.

“It’s light,” said the cicada.

“Why is it tugging at me?”

“That’s what light does.”

“What if I don’t want to move?”

“Dunno,” said the cicada, “I’ve been under here for 17 years. I like the dark.”

“I haven’t been under here for nearly as long,” said the acorn, “but it sure is comfortable.”

“And cool,” said the cicada, “and snug, and yeah, so cool—wonderfully cool.”

“What do I do?” asked the acorn.

“About what?”

“The pull.  I mean, my heart feels like it’s breaking, and something inside wants out.”

“Go with it,” said the cicada. “So part of you moves into the light? Your roots will always be in darkness.”

“And what about you?”

“Me?” Said the cicada, “Well, when the light draws me out, and I climb a tree and wait for my wings to spill out, then my roots will be in the sky.”

“Should I try to fight the light?” asked the acorn.

“Good luck,” said the cicada. “Funny thing is, once during late summer, you fell to the ground and the darkness pulled you under and you loved it. You didn’t resist. You couldn’t resist. I heard you sinking down. You were weeping and laughing all at the same time because it was so nourishing and safe-feeling to be under here. Now you want to fight the light. Try this, just try breathing in the light, and see what happens.”

The acorn did as the cicada suggested and she suddenly felt the light breathing her and she found herself unfurling into the bright, blue sky, and the light–she was eating the light.

“There ya go,” said the cicada.

“Aren’t you coming?” asked the acorn as she turned away.

“When I have suckled the roots of the mother tree long enough,” said the cicada, “then I will come. For now I am still nursing the dark.”

 

 

 


 

 

 


As of the posting of this story, I am still unemployed and without an income.  Please help if you can.  All my love, Radiance

Can You Imagine?

Can You Imagine?
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

Who would ever tell autumn leaves

They really should have stayed green?

Sure they were born all manner of greens—

Supple, minty, luminous shades;

Can you imagine a moment knowing

You were golden inside even though outside

You had always presented otherwise?

Can you imagine the terrible joy?

Can you imagine new colors beginning

To show and spreading to the tips

Of your fingers, without being able to stop them?

Imagine you were really a fire of purple

And blazing red, imagine you ingested

Bits of the sun and now bloomed orange

And lemon and vermillion,

Imagine reminding everyone of apple cider

And hay bales, and mazes made of corn fields.

Can you imagine?

Can you imagine opening enough

To include the miraculous?

Can you imagine what it is like to realize

Once you discover who you really are

That you have to let go of root and branch,

And leap into the wind, swirl onto rivers

And streams, and dance into the wild,

Blue, accepting sky without knowing

Where you will land?

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

Donations go to Jennifer’s transition and to keeping the WonderChild Blog alfoat.  Thank you.  <3



What To Do

What to Do
By
Joseph Anthony Petro

 

If you fumble around long enough
Words will turn up.
The trick is to keep searching.
Look under the dusty cushions
Of old ideas,
Or in the loose pockets
Of worn out prejudices,
Thumb through the flat, leather wallet
Of your past accomplishments,
Reach for the every day,
Explore the every where,
Touch the faces of revelation,
Brush open the hands of wonder.
Most of all, allow your awareness
To settle into the moment, like
A butterfly settling on a flower,
Or better yet, like a tone
Blossoming from a bell.
Your life is brimming
With meaning. This moment
Is ringing with the One
Word that holds all words,
That lifts all burdens into sunlight;
This moment, this life–look here,
Look now.

 

 

 


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