Gliding

Gliding
By
Joseph Anthony Petro

 

 

The longer I live, the more I realize flamboyant pink flamingoes
Splash in the shallow, blue water of my being.
The more I move the more I sense my bones house a marrow of light.
Somewhere in my cells and those elegant strands of DNA,
The sun, the moon, and all the stars in between weave
Into one rippling tapestry of aliveness.
The more I breathe with my whole body the more I wash my hands
Of the tiresome dualities and ever-expanding binaries.
The more I take mischievous delight in skirting the margins and bathing
In a spectrum of sensual possibilities, the more I dance with recherché impulses
And experience in between spaces opening like songs on which I can ride, like
Magic carpets, and be lifted to liberated places.
The more I participate in the unclouded awareness of sheer potential,
Where authenticity breeds and freedom spirals in satins and silks,
The more I dream of angels who embrace me and whisper in my ear:
“It’s not too late. Come. There are many of us.
Glide while walking home.”

 

 

 


 

 

 



In Your Own Time

In Your Own Time

By Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

In the shadow of trees
The owl glides over the moonlit marsh, like a dream.
Fireflies drift into shadow-dappled fields, like
A slow carnival of stars.
Bats break free from the shadow-shawled branches, like
Pieces of darkness fluttering through the sky.
It is alright to live in the shadows.
Candles and gold are brightest there.
It is also alright—more than alright-
To burst forth from the shadows, like
Morning through the trees,
To climb over riverbanks and spread over the shore
Perfectly imperfect—loving the shadows
For who they are, knowing their purpose is pure
As midnight, pure as cricket song, pure
As the talons of the owl bloom from the darkness
And descend, joyously, full of hunger,
Towards the object of her desire.
It is alright—it is more than alright
To be who and what you are—
No matter the shadows, no matter the light—
The fields of the world
Await the beating of your wings.

 

 

 


 

 

 





I Saw the Willow Dance

I Saw the Willow Dance
By
Joseph Anthony Petro

 

I am telling you I saw the willow dance.
She danced with such duende
My root chakra ignited into a pool of fire,
My kundalini awoke gyrating like a cobra,
My third eye opened and caused my upturned face to blush.
She twirled her rivering boughs,
Whirled her soft, green skirts,
Shimmied her thousand and one shifts
In one billowy shift,
Drew the morning breeze
Up her skirt and through her undulating arms–
Her whole body swished and swept,
Her fingers fluttered over the dew-covered grass.
I’m telling you, I saw the willow dance—
And for me,
And now
For you.

 

 


 

 





The Lighthouse and the Lightkeeper

The Lighthouse and the Lightkeeper
By
Joseph Anthony Petro

The Lightkeeper climbed the spiral stairs he had built
Many years before, illuminating his own way as he went.
Arriving at the barely burning light, in the sea-whispered darkness
He trimmed the wick, like a gardener pruning a flower.
Shrouded in salt-scented silence the wick wept in pain and gratitude.
The Lightkeeper knew all about the storm-swirled foundations
Of the lighthouse–her laborious beginnings and genuine attempts
To remain solid and in good standing with a shore covered with rocks and waves,
And an ocean full of lost vessels–untethered, uncaptained, bobbing
In their own sickness, void of direction, unsure of the way ahead,
Lost without rudder or sail. The Lightkeeper knew them each by name.
He knew their voyages, their origins, who built them and set them sailing,
He knew where they wanted to go. He knew the emptiness in their hulls,
And their desire for treasure. He knew their wheels longed to be held and steered
Despite their cries to be left alone.
He knew he wanted each and every one of them safe in the harbor.
He knew all about the ideas that the wind-tossed-tide threw around like little shells—
Ideas that say the world no longer needs lighthouses,
Ideas that say it is somehow wrong to shine, or wrong to want or need
To be rekindled by another, that the ships are perfectly fine
Drifting as they are with their own unique and uncriticizable navigation equipment.
Into these ideas he simply implanted the sound of the sea.
Having finished his trimming for now, the Lightkeeper
Touched his light to the wick with all of the tenderness
Of an angel kissing the forehead of a sleeping infant,
And when spark caught spark and the light of the lighthouse
Began to blaze, filling the space with warmth and steadiness
Ship after ship began sailing for home, and the lighthouse
Remembered why she was there and how important
Her mission was. And then the Lightkeeper
Looked at her flame dancing in the light of his light and said:
“This is my Beloved daughter in whom I am well pleased.”

 

 

 


 

 





Tradition Three

Tradition Three
By
Joseph Anthony Petro

 

In the space created by gathering together
Tangled bundles of nerves loosen into usable threads of stories
Whose intricate plots become the fabric of hope;
Thunderous pasts and futures soften into the holy silence of here and now;
Knots of shame and sorrow unravel first into heaps of relief
And then are braided by wisdom into lifelines for others to grab hold of;
Springs of tension and rage wind down into shock absorbers
For the carriage of the heart;
Shells of human beings break open into birds of freedom;
Ghosts shimmer back into their bodies and bones reassemble
Taking on the flesh of experience and rise from the dead;
Dissonant chords of not knowing what to do
Resolve into melodies of mistakes and laughter;
The stormy seas of self-condemnation calm into self-acceptance
As we give ourselves over to the hands of another;
And no one has to step out onto the waves to prove anything
To anybody, and everyone in the space created
Stays in the boat and rows, while love dances on the water
Gathering us together in the sun-drenched wings
Of mutual aid.

 

 

 


 





Echo, Sadness

Echo, Sadness
By
Joseph Anthony Petro

 
Echo, sadness, on the walls of my chest,
Over the skin on my shoulders,
Echo, sadness, roll down my arms
And splash from my fingers,
Echo, sadness, through the waters of my soul,
In the hollow of my hands, in the pit of my belly,
Echo, sadness, through my bones,
Through the shell of my memories,
Echo, like sonar and find the lost ships of desire.
Echo, sadness—shudder through the ghosts
Of my mind, allow them the gift
Of dissolving like mist in light—audible light—
Let them sing as they go, thinning
Into particles of mantras and prayers.
Echo, sadness, ring in the bell of my heart
And pour through the valley of my past
And the mountains of my fears.
Echo, sadness, here, in this rattled and quivering breath—
Shallow and catching—echo here and in this here–
Sound the call of healing and let this be but a beginning
Of the unleashing of the mighty dragons of joy
From the company of heaven.

 

 

 


 





Center of the Universe

Center of the Universe
By
Joseph Anthony Petro

 

Imagine the idea that you are the center of the universe
Is true. Imagine from where you stand a big bang unfurls creating everything around you.
Of course, some big bangs will be experienced as whispers,
Or deep sighs of acceptance after years of working hard to simply trudge
Another step. Imagine the universe blossoming through your blossoming;
That all space and time is hereby localized in you.
Imagine being a focal point of God’s light, an emissary of the moment—
The very ways and means of God’s omnipotence. Imagine it’s you and I
And every sentient being experiencing being alive all at the same time.
Imagine galaxies gracefully unfolding their arms from the center of your heart,
Stars forming from a single thought, planets set to spinning from an impulse
To play.

Imagine self-centeredness being a blessing.
Imagine it meaning something altogether different
From what we usually think it means.
Imagine it means the complete desire to serve and to share,
To create and to inspire, to let go of rather than hold on to.
Imagine it is the way in which we imagine self-centeredness
That selfishness of the most terrible kind arises.

Imagine opening your eyes and seeing everything revolve around you,
And imagine everyone else doing the same, so that everyone would see together
Through their own unique lens the eternal dance of now.

Imagine God seeing through you,
Breathing through you,
Thinking and loving and touching through you,
And the gift is you get to feel what it’s like
To be light,
To be breath,
To be a vessel
Of divinity.

Imagine then your choice in all of this is whether or not
To close yourself off and turn away, or to be yourself–
An absolutely true center of the universe.

Imagine making your decision and then turning towards the momentum
And joining the dance.

 

 


 





The Revelation is Now

The Revelation is Now
By
Joseph Anthony Petro

Where do I begin?
The revelation is now.
When will I die?
The revelation is now.
How can I trust?
The revelation is now.
What will happen next?
The revelation is now.
Should I get my things in order?
The revelation is now.
Shouldn’t I be worried?
The revelation is now.
Isn’t there something else I need to be doing?
The revelation is now.
Will there be blinding flashes of light?
The revelation is now.
Which way will I go?
The revelation is now.
Which direction is true?
The revelation is now.
The horizon, will I reach it?
The revelation is now.
Will I suffer anymore?
The revelation is now.
Will there be healing for these old, open wounds?
The revelation is now.
Will you be there waiting?
The revelation is now.
Will I feel you holding me?
The revelation is now.
So much is falling away,
I don’t know what to hold on to
Or what to let go of.
The revelation is now.
Is it really OK to be happy?
The revelation is now.
Do you really want me?
The revelation is now.
Empty my bags? Anything.
The revelation is now.
Scatter my old ideas into the sea?
The revelation is now.
Take your hand?
The revelation is now.
You need my ‘yes’ before we go any further?
The revelation is now.
Yes. I am yours.
The revelation is now.
I’m trying not to be afraid.
The revelation is now.
Fear is falling away.
The revelation is now.
I believe you will never leave me.
The revelation is now.
May I have this dance?
The revelation is now.
Look! We are dancing on a river of light.
The revelation is now.
Will we dance like this forever?
The revelation is now.


 




Foundations

Foundations
By
Joseph Anthony Petro

 

Listen, O ears of my soul–
Hear past sounds and any meaning
The mind gives those sounds,
Listen through the chatter
And traffic, and everyday sonancy
To the Foundation Song
Exhaling steadily through all creation.

Look, O eyes of my soul,
See past appearances and any judgments
The mind assigns the images,
See through replicas and glitter,
And shifting shadows
To the Foundation Light
Shining steadily through all creation.

Taste, O tongue of my soul,
Discern past flavors and any cravings
The mind makes you think
You must obey.
Savor through the empty calories,
The sweetness and bitterness,
And everyday seasonings
To the Foundation Bread
Nourishing steadily all creation.

Feel, O body of my soul–
Breathe past fear and any memories
That say you shouldn’t experience bliss,
Rise past shame and the torturous ideas
That pleasure is somehow wrong
To the Foundation Joy
Cresting steadily through all creation—
Spilling you, emptying you, filling you,
Lifting you to sink into heaven’s bed
Where you are allowed to desire desire,
Where you are allowed to be ravished
And to ravish, where it is safe to lose yourself
And find yourself in the rapturously
Catching breath of the Beloved.

 

 

 

 


 





Prodigal Song

Prodigal Song
By
Joseph Anthony Petro

 

Little by little,
More and more
Is being carved away,
Hollowed out,
Emptied out,
Ruled out,
Clarified,
Loosened,
Released,
And unblocked.
Little by little,
More and more
This uncluttering
And diminishing
Leaves me clear
And open and ready
For Your breath
To flow through me,
For Your fingers
To nimbly cover
And uncover the holes
In my memories
And what I think
I want and need,
Ready for You to play
Through me
The song You know
I most want to sing,
The song You compose,
The song You arrange,
The song You gave me
In the beginning
When You first kissed
My forehead
And let me go.