The Wandering Now, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

The Wandering Now

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

Are there times, plural? Times

That exist multiplied, added,

Subtracted, divided?

 

Or is it one time and one time only?

Is it one borderless time—no alpha,

No omega time? No chronos,

No Kairos, no linear, no anywhere time?

 

We do know there are

Rhythms of moons and seasons,

 

We do know we breathe—

 

Our lives,

Our breath,

 

Sifts through many branches,

Spreads through many bodies,

Moves in a wind that is kin to silence—

 

Yet even amidst the changes that don’t

Really change, even amidst the sound

Living in silence, and the silence living in sound

 

It is still a breath—an expansion and contraction

Of our place in time—

A breath that is, in itself, a spirit,

A spirit that is, in itself, a body—

A body that is, in itself, the now made manifest.

 

And from where we stand,

In all of the mystery, and all

The effort to find a center

 

We blossom and wither

In no time at all—

 

So here we are—maybe

You need to join me in

Lifting our head, lifting our hands—

And with all the earnestness of a lost soul–

Say to the everywhere:

“Show me.”

 

 

 


It’s All Happening Now, By Jennifer Angelina Petro

It’s All Happening Now

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

Your awareness

Of your immediate

Surroundings–this

Moment, and

Your breath

Breathing presence

Into the world–

Is valid. Your pain,

Your falling asleep,

Your heartache,

Your little conversations

About how beautiful

The sunset is,

Your worries,

Your looking for your keys,

Your rising, glowing

Body—fluttering

With coming—

All of this—

Is valid.

 

And can you

Imagine–now, this

Moment–somewhere far

Beneath the ocean’s surface–

A whale drifts—

An acorn-barnacled

Monolith–singing

Light through forests

Of kelp and the bodies

Of a million fish—

Echoing in your very

Own longing—can you

Imagine?

 

Can you imagine–

Now, this moment–

Somewhere deep

In deep-green leaves—

Leaves as big as faces–

A panther, a shimmering

Piece of the night,

Licking its great paws,

And staring—all the way

From Indonesia—

Directly

Into your eyes?

 

Oh, can you—

Can you imagine?

It’s all happening

Now.

 

 

 

 


 




River of Grace

River of Grace
By
Joseph Anthony

River of Grace

Yesterday spills over into now, like
A perpetual fountain; tomorrow
Waves backwards, catching us up
In its unfolding tide of mystery.
Now branches tributaries in every direction
Regardless of where you focus
Or how, or which way you turn
Your attention—you’re standing
In water, or succumbing to flowing
And rivering, rushing and burbling,
Hushing and tumbling over and over
Gathering up yesterdays, like
So many fallen leaves,
Roaring towards tomorrow, like
A waterfall that ultimately resolves
Into stillness and reflection where you’re breathing,
Body dripping wet, no longer ashamed
Of the time spent in yesterday,
Or the time spent in tomorrow,
You’ll just be here, half drowned
In sorrow, half resurrected
In hope—here,
where there is no right way
to act a certain way.
Hold out your hands, time is flowing.
Make a beginning, bring eternity
To your waiting, trembling lips.


Thank you for your kind donations to keeping the work of the Wonder Child Blog going

Subscribe today, I write a lot.