No Body Else but Yours
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
Listen, trees
breathe you
breath drawn
from roots,
drawn from darkness,
that, in turn,
breathe the earth
cradled in arms
that spiral stars
with revolutions
of joy.
The next time
you feel wind
on your face,
know you are dear
to the heart
of the world;
how you are
touched
with eternity
breathed
from lungs
of love and sighs,
that are, in turn,
born from a longing
for nothing more
than a glance
that is no body
else’s but yours.
Occulted
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
The chimeric afternoon
Lifts its head, as I venture out
For the first time in three days.
I mask my face against the belladonna air,
Each step feeling modestly feral,
Each sifted breath more defiant than the last.
It occurs to me, as the swift, April wind
Spindles through my hair:
There is nothing I wouldn’t give
To lie with you in the cherry-blossom-petaled grass,
Hands clasped, holding on
Through an uncertain, occulted future.
What I wouldn’t give
To Netflix with you in bed,
Blankets warm, lights off. If only you were here.
If only you existed.
What I wouldn’t give to be vivified by a kiss.
As it is, each step slows in the miasmic
Walk back to what I call home.
I climb the steps, turning to look for you
One last time. I open the door. I close the door.
I walk into my spell-bound apartment
And sit on the couch.
I do not look out the window,
Passed the magnolia tree,
To the sidewalk below,
To see if you spirited home with me. Instead,
I remove my mask, I close my eyes,
And merge back into the sonorous silence.
The Root of Us All
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
Flowers flower from the branch,
Branches flower from the tree,
Trees flower from the ground,
The ground flowers from the earth,
The earth flowers from love’s universe,
Love’s universe flowers from many minds
And many hearts and many wishes and many prayers.
Minds flower from seed,
Hearts flower from fire,
Wishes flower from all children,
Prayers flower from pain.
You flower from me,
I flower from you,
We flower from need,
And need flowers from desire,
Desire flowers from all space,
And all time, and everything right
With the world.
Waves flower from the sea,
The sea flowers from longing,
Longing flowers from love once known
Calling us home,
Home flowers from hearth and bed.
Love flowers from our hands,
Our hands flower from our limbs,
Our limbs flower from our bodies,
Our bodies flower from union,
Union flowers from creation everlasting
Everlasting flowers from joy,
Joy flowers from need,
Need flowers from want,
Want flowers from gardens of many fragrances and colors,
Many colors flower from infinity’s imagination,
Imagination flowers from the hands of a child,
And a child is the root of us all,
All of us flower from variety’s branches,
Branches flower from the tree,
The tree flowers from the ground,
The ground flowers from where you stand,
Your standing flowers from community,
Community flowers hands opening,
Hands opening flower from pain lived,
Pain lived flowers from the bravery of a child,
And a child is the root of us all.
The Gravity of Longing
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
The moon reaches down
Lifting the waves in her cupped hands,
Scales of fish contain petals of the sun,
Moths slip the gravity of their longing
Letting their wings catch fire,
Wind arrives at street corners, spinning leaves
In little galaxies,
Deer move as solemn Druids,
Leaving angel hoof-prints in the snow,
Union and separation whirl in expanding
And contracting orbits of desire,
Creation wheels around the flame of god,
The road of your passion unfurls before you,
With a keenness that washes your hair and hands–
Sing—
Keep your prayers coming and your steps light–
They will return home, dancing.
Angel Speak
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
Every night, a friend
Comes to talk with me,
Carrying word of faraway
And intimately near places.
Sometimes she talks,
Animatedly, with an urgency
Known only to those with important news,
Sometimes she talks
In gently bobbing waves of psychedelia,
Which carry me on their drifting
Clouds to the shores of morning.
Sometimes she chases me
Without a word—just pursuing me
As if I were quarry, sometimes
She drops me, plunging me
Into the day, sweating and panicked.
Even when she appears sinister,
I have come to know she simply wants
To send messages from the soul.
And every morning, I wake
And forget everything
She said. Well, some of it
Lingers for a few moments, like
The scent of honeysuckle in spring;
But eventually, as I dress,
And rustle papers and books,
It fades, or lifts, or blows,
Or flies, or runs
Away.
I think sometimes
What if she ached to be known,
To be heard, to be validated, seen?
What if she simply wanted
To be there, like
An angel by the riverside.
Indeed, what if
All dreams were flocks of angels
Forming grand gestures and landscapes
Of secrets intent on revelation?
What if she was trying
To tell me she needed help
Or that the spiritual world
Was in trouble?
What if she was trying to tell me
That it’s time, as I sleep
Through my day,
To wake up and start singing?
All donations go to medical bills and groceries. Thank for your support. <3
Turning In
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
At night, when our bodies
Begin to slow down, and our eyelids
Become heavy, we turn in,
And our attention
Recedes from the senses,
And we move into ourselves and dream.
And we all know dreaming
Is just the soul saying what it wanted
During the day but couldn’t,
And as we are drawn inwards,
And our breathing drifts like it was meant to,
And we rescind control over our bodies,
And our lips part and our palms open,
And our arms go this way and that,
We begin catching z’s—the buzz
Of fluorescent lights becomes the buzz of bees
Making honey out of our disappointments,
The hum of the fan of our laptops
Becomes the hush of owl’s wings,
And we yield like this every day–
Every day we relinquish the tenuous hold
We have on our lives and surrender
To the darkness living within us—
The selfsame darkness that holds the voice of desire–
Speaking like a lighthouse to approaching ships,
Speaking like the hummingbird daring us
To try and follow where it goes,
Speaking like moonlight on the river,
Speaking like our soul bowing down before us
Aching for us to listen.
Be Still No More
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
Enough of listening for a still, small voice,
Enough of “Be still and know,”
Stir me on the inside with resonance,
Move me on the outside with kisses,
Sing me your guidance, o goddess of wisdom,
Sing it out loud like unmistakable thunder,
Shout your love from the great, strong winds,
Declare your presence as you shake the earth with dancing,
Enter my cave and shed your garments,
Uncover my face, remove my mantle,
Ask me your questions with your breath on my breasts,
Enough of this stillness, enough of gentle whispers,
Let your revelation ravish my soul like a storm.
When You Open
By
Joseph Anthony Petro
When you open
In your own perfectly sweet, and treacherous time,
You will see what you thought
Were mere wrappings
To be unloved and discarded,
Are really part and parcel of the blossoming.
Just on the other side
Of the delicate, luminous tissue
That makes up love’s secret desire,
Is the revelation you are
Love’s secret desire, you
Are the beauty you long for.
On the underside of your visible identity,
The one you show day in day out,
You are the light you seek
In the world.
That Same Wonder
By
Joseph Anthony Petro
I am being
Step for step,
Morning by morning,
Evening by evening,
Breath for breath,
Pulse by pulse,
Desire by desire
Written, drawn,
Painted, sculpted,
Composed, arranged,
Sung, and spoken.
I am an expression
Of something, someone
So living, so vitalizing,
That it spills into my steps,
Pours from my words,
Weeps from my heart
In such a way as to both hide itself
And reveal itself at the same time.
It should come as no surprise
That wonder drips, no matter how
Sad I get, from every cell
Of my body.
I am being made, created,
Dreamed, formed
By wonder, and the same wonder
That assembles me
Dismantles me, levels me,
Emptiness me,
Adjourns and disrobes me,
That same wonder
I am being fitted for
Doctored by,
Dissolved by
Is the same wonder
That wants me,
Requests me,
Stomachs me,
Explores me,
That same wonder
That is my every breath and my last breath,
That same wonder that will lay me down
In the soft earth and raise me up
When I am ready to awaken,
That same wonder that will keep me
Dancing, learning, being born, full of grace,
Full of insight, full of cherry blossom petals
And moonlight, full of ponds
And stars—that same wonder, when I am ready
To be myself in full bloom
Will be there, here
Ready to catch me
When I fall.
Dream Image I
By
Joseph Anthony Petro
Imagining the tree will suddenly
Lift the skirt of her roots and run,
Or dance, or simply move closer
So I can rest in her branches,
Run my fingers through her leaves,
Kiss her trunk of concentric circles.
Or maybe she would run right passed me,
Headlong into the ocean, leaves scattering
In her own private autumn, and become
A ship, trailing her wake of roots
Slowly, into the waiting arms of the sun.