How It’s Supposed to Be

Posted on January 19, 2015 by Jennifer

How It’s Supposed to Be
By
Joseph Anthony Petro

The trajectory is supposed to be
Like this—a gently sloping road
Rising steadily towards the next city over,
The one nestled in purple hills and gleaming rooftops,
And the road is supposed to be
Straight, and the road is supposed to be
Wide, and the driving safe,
And the air bright and the sun shining,
And there are supposed to be
Signs, clear as bells, along the way,
Unmistakable in their direction
And sense of helpfulness.
The road is supposed to be
Free of obstacles, dotted with pleasant shops
With curios and books, and little cafes
Where you can order the best smoothies
And read all day if you want to.
Yes the road is supposed to be
Free and easy, a short jaunt from here to there,
A Sunday drive in Spring that ends
With a picnic and a blanket and a basket
And not a single ant or yellow jacket.
Come to think of it, who needs a road?
Why shouldn’t it be that you simply walk
Out of your front door and wind up exactly
At the beginning and the end, all at once?
Where you walk down your driveway
To the sidewalk which turns on itself
In a closed-circuit loop, leading down
And around and right back up
To your very own door,
And so you are where you’re supposed to be,
And there isn’t any need for a journey.
In fact, why open the door at all? Why even go
To the door in the first place? Why even get out of bed?
Why not just stay inside
Where the covers are warm and the house
Empty and the walls full of the fantasies
Projected from your mind,
And your feelings are fine, in no need
Of changing, and all of your memories
Are fine, in no need of processing,
And all of your dreams and goals for the future
Are fine, powdery dust, in no need of pursuing?
Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?

Declaration, Seed Poem II

Posted on January 14, 2015 by Jennifer

Declaration
Seed Poem II
By Joseph Anthony Petro

Hear Ye! Hear Ye!
O Seed of Compressed Light,
In your own sweet time
Break open, fall apart, dissolve
Into earth and warmth and sun,
And grow, dive upwards
Through the dark sea
Of ground and soil, and rejoice.
Express yourself as pure,
Undivided devotion to light
And the utter deliciousness
Of being yourself.

The Miracle is This, Seed Poem I: The Evolution of a Poem

Posted on January 12, 2015 by Jennifer

Seed Poem I
An Evolution of a Poem
By
Joseph Anthony Petro

I thought you might find it interesting how this poem evolved. I offer all three drafts. The first one stems more from the overt depression. The second opens to the reality of light, and the third, while still coming from the depression, remembers the many who love seeds, and thus sings the song of hope and healing.

Seed Poem I, Version I:

What must it be like
To be enshrouded
By darkness and the cold,
Unrelenting truth
Of the earth?

What must it be like
To have a heart
Full of light confined
To husk and shell?

What must it be like
To be touched, softened,
And drawn upwards,
Palms open into the air?

What must it be like
To be invited heavenward,
Born skywards, lifted
By encouraging hands
As darkness crumbles
Around you, and the mind
Warms, and the possibility
Of sky roots itself
In your whole body
As you spiral away
From brokenness, and rise
Into the rebirth of branch
And blossom, green and standing tall,
Unveiled, uninhibited,
In the light of day?

Seed Poem I, Version II:

Shrouded in darkness and unrelenting earth;
A heart full of light confined to husk and shell
Longs to be touched, softened, drawn upwards,
Invited heavenwards, encouraged skywards, lifted
By encouraging hands, so that the darkness crumbles
And its mind warms to the possibility of sky rooting itself
In its whole body; as it longs to spiral away
From brokenness into the rebirth of branch and blossom,
As it longs to rise, green and solid, unveiled, and uninhibited
In the clear light of here and now.

Seed Poem I, Version III (Final Version):

The miracle is this:
a heart full of light,
confined to husk and shell,
shrouded by darkness and unrelenting earth,
is touched by a greater light,
is softened by darkness,
is drawn upwards,
invited skywards,
born heavenwards,
held and lifted
by the encouraging hands
Of angels who have known the darkness too,
And it senses doors crumbling away as its mind
warms to the possibility of sky rooting itself
in its whole body,
and it spirals away from its own brokenness,
and it rises high into rebirth,
and it grows outwards into branch
and blossom, where it stands unveiled, uninhibited,
Palms open in the clear light of day.

A Living Bridge

Posted on December 30, 2014 by Jennifer

A Living Bridge
By
Joseph Anthony

A Living Bridge

Right now, this very moment,
Roots spread vast interwoven networks
Of lace and hands held in intimate solidarity,
Fingertips touching in honest exploration,
And filaments gathering nutrients
From underground rivulets and raindrops,
And then, these divinely rooted roots, in their total,
Moist and cold darkness, allow light
To draw the sustenance, lift
The sustenance up through the body
In the slowest possible pulse of sweetness.
This is all happening beneath our feet
And our uncommon awareness. But know it now
And then do the same with your sorrows.
For your life depends on it,
And there are others in darkness,
Doing their best to hold on.
And there’s more:
Tress not only radiate below,
Expanding in darkness,
They radiate above, outstretched and planted
In sky, extracting nourishment from the surrounding sphere
Of influential light, drawing it in
Through their reaching and holy availability,
And then they transform their daily bread of sun
Into air for all living things.
Do the same with your joy.
With fragrant, open hands, share the wild fruits
Of self-awareness, and the colorful leaves
Of letting go into the moment,
And the sheer strength of being there,
Day in day out, steady and true.
Be a living bridge between below and above,
In the clear space of listening and speaking,
In the shared truth of existence sway
In jubilant wonder, dance
In the holy middle of being alive.

Limitless Possibilities

Posted on December 29, 2014 by Jennifer

Limitless Possibilities
By
Joseph Anthony

Limitless Possibilities

Every seed is hand-crafted
and placed lovingly in a world
of sweetness and protection.
Every seed contains the hope of sky,
and the memory of a passageway,
and the deepest ache and longing for light.
And inside every seed burns a steady darkness.
Not the kind where you can just make out the shapes of things,
but the kind where nothing is visible,
and this is good, holy, necessary.
And every seed holds a question
Whose answer opens into vast,
Cathedrals of light. And then,
life surges further upwards, blazing slowly
through blindness, past hard places,
past bones and ancient relics of past generations,
through the sweet, congratulating earth,
through darkness, and out–
out into the golden warmth
of limitless possibilities.

River of Grace

Posted on December 25, 2014 by Jennifer

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.

Christmas 2014

Posted on December 24, 2014 by Jennifer

Christmas, 2014
By
Joseph Anthony

Christmas, 2014

On this eve of Herod’s wrath
Surround yourself with animals
And shepherds, stars, and fragrant gifts
From the earth; find the lowly places
And give birth to death.

II.

Let the memories of trauma
Sink and sift through root and bone,
Hidden wells and sleeping seeds,
Let them die in silent peace,
And in the holy silence of bearing witness
And affirmation, transformation
And regeneration. Let them die
In the roar of trees trampling through valleys
Of sorrow to lift up the child and adopt the child,
and keep it safe as long as it wants, as long as it needs.

III.

On this eve of Joseph’s dreams
And trudging over roadless sand,
Find the star, any star, and go, Egypt awaits,
Land of Ra and Isis, and sacred geometry
Of hieroglyphs and feather scales.
Go, and hold innocence
As never before—bring a sword and pocketfuls
Of stones, do whatever it takes to say:
Tonight innocence will be
Kept safe and cherished above all things,
And all life will be honored, and all beings
And faiths, all people and creatures,
All elements and angels, devils
And waterfalls, ponds, and lilies,
all stumblings and dancings,
All things seen and unseen,
Will be bathed in starlight and wrapped
In swaddling clothes.

IV.

On this eve of the saddest story ever told
Of a parent sacrificing his only child
To cover up for his own mistakes,
And letting scores of other children die
In its place,
On this eve of nevermore,
The child is king and queen alone
By virtue of its innocence—holy, exalted,
Full of wonder and grace,
Magnified and full of laughter.
The child born tonight shall never know
The pain of being separated from itself
Or the being abandoned to die while living.
It will be whole.
Saving only itself.
And the unity of all things
That echoes as a result
Will ring throughout the inner landscape of the soul
Setting fire to the imagination
And stream out of Egypt like a lion,
not forgetting its heritage and upbringing,
But to embrace the place that kept it safe
And call itself privileged to have been hidden
Those years in the land of pyramids and sphinxes.
And on this silent night, this holy night,
This raging night divine,
The child will be safe and sound,
and sleep in the tree of life,
like a baby owl, waiting to fly.

In Praise of Trees

Posted on December 23, 2014 by Jennifer

In Praise of Trees
By
Joseph Anthony

In Praise of Trees

God is in the trees,
wind-infused, sifting through branches,
whispering eternal solutions to everyday problems,
wholly unafraid, spreading infinite roots,
holding the sun on the tips of his fingers,
cracking new skin making new rings appear rippling forth
and so on and so on unto eternity.
Goddess is in the trees,
elegant and wise,
moon-shawled shoulders,
stars in hair, branches spreading shelter and touches,
and invitations to holy silence:
Come, sit down against me, she says, and rest,
feel what real solidity is, and the strength
I bear in my boughs for you and birds
And climbing children, tree houses,
And nests of eagles and hawks.

God is the trees, shadow-maker verdant green,
Goddess is in the trees, shadow-dappled fire-crowned,
God is in the trees, leaning down to lift the little ones up–squirrels
baby raccoons, cicada nymphs, and wayward snakes and cats,

Goddess is in the trees, lifting the sky, setting out stars,
God is in the trees, stirring the clouds,
weaving constellations of planets and stars,
Goddess is in the trees, mingling roots with earth and singing
Incantations of nourishing wonder,
God is in the trees offering space for ravens to assemble, like
Monks and ministers, where owls can perch, like
Joan of Arc and Sister Odilia after her sight is returned,
Goddess is in the trees, tossing leaves, like
Little ships, each catching a glimpse of the light
As they sail away in streams and rivers,
Carrying holds of gold and hope for tomorrow
And now, there and here, everywhere
Moments are opening to space and time,
That Goddess gives and gives some more,
God is in the trees, seed-sailing, breath-giving
Wanting only the best for you and me
And the giraffe nibbling leaves,
Goddess is in the trees, seed-spiraling, seed-blessing,
Seed sending, each with a message
That says:
Abudance is real
And available
in each and every beat of the heart.
God and Goddess are in the trees,
Intertwined and interwoven, like lyric and song,
And night and day, Lover, Beloved,
Mountain and sky.
God and Goddess are in the trees,
Blanket of leaves and branches of intricate wishes.
Stop a moment,
give yourself over to them,
kneel at their roots,
Sleep in their arms,
Pray to their slow, patient consciousness
Pervading the ground of being with filigrees of earth-touching,
Water-drawing, heart-holding roots,
Pervading the sky with air-climbing tendrils of praise
And praise and praise,
And palms that open in gratitude sweet with tears,
Hear them as they sing:
You have been born
And you have been seen
And you have been carried here
Through our passageways
and intentions and through our conscious
Benevolence and kindly mischievousness,
Through each ring and root and leaf,
Through each swaying in summer storm,
through each autumn when we dress in our finest clothes,
through each standing still in winter, arms outstretched, gathering snow,
and through each spring when we surprise you again and again
with green, sweet green, and blossoms that rain delicate
and heavenly, and fruit, more fruit than you can ever imagine,
it is all for you, breathe it in—breathe it in.
This sky is for you, breathe it in-
We are for you,
Breathe us in—
This earth is for you—
Breathe it in—
This moment in time and space–
Is for you—
Breathe it in—
This song, this fragrance of unity and restfulness—
They are for you—
Breathe them in,
And pray to one another
Compassionate prayers
Let your love spiral through us like
ribboning wind, and know that we hear you
and know that we are you
and know that you’re never alone.
Let every tree, every branch, every root, every leaf, every seed,
And every least bit of kindling and firewood,
Every table and chair, pencil and bookcase,
Let them all be reminders
Of our presence and what we allow
And ache for you to make with us, create with us—
Breathe it all in.
And know that we,
God and Goddess,
Are here
In love
With you.

You and Our and the Magical Arithmetic of Hope

Posted on December 20, 2014 by Jennifer

You and Our
And the Magical Arithmetic
Of Hope
By
Joseph Anthony

You and Our

And the Magical Arithmetic

of Hope

In the shared space pain takes up,
Camaraderie prevails.
And it isn’t so much
That the pain doesn’t matter,
Those partaking of this bitter bread
Give thanks for the nourishment it brings.
And even as they accept me
Into this holy fraternity,
This circle of understanding,
This affiliation of grace,
I stand myself apart and say: Your
Rooms, your fellowship,
My pain, your pain.
One of them brought this
To my attention and I am grateful.
So much depends upon unity,
Upon the shared understanding
That weaves through and through
Each agent of mercy, each emissary that carries
The gifts of sadness and transcendence.
And so I stand and take fledging steps
To the edge and then into
The Community of Our:
Our pain. Our rooms. Our healing.
And as I take my place amidst and among,
I sit neither below nor above,
I am simply one of the many,
One of a band that grows, like
Ripples in a pond,
Like the fragrance of honeysuckle in spring,
Like the good thoughts of forgiveness
And humility, like a song sung by the One
Who is the Ultimate Our and You and I
And We and Every Living Thing,
And on we go,
One tapestry of hope,
One table of plenty shared,
One perpetual thanksgiving
Of you becoming our
And our becoming more
Than the sum of its parts,
And the sum of its parts
Becoming the magical arithmetic
Of hope: things subtracted
Become the variables that give way
To the addition of constants
Like love, understanding, acceptance, humor,
And miracles, yes, miracles
Are a constant,
That when combined
Multiply a thousand fold, pressed down, shaken together,
And running over into a joy that equals
The priceless gift
Of serenity.

12 / 13 / 14

Posted on December 14, 2014 by Jennifer

12 / 13 / 14
by
Joseph Anthony

12 / 13 / 14

The tissue paper wing of the dead cicada,
The dry, decomposing leaf that reveals the hair-thin frame,
The tailspinning snowflake landing on my coat,
The seedling finally threading through the ruckusy goings on of the thick forest floor,
The hatchling robins shaking, blind, void of feathers, hungry,
The surface of the pond as I just lay my hand, like so, upon its face,
My hand as the cool water enfolds it with the darkness of sensation,
The small Christmas present, all crinkles and tape, loosely and lovingly wrapped by a child,
The quavering moon held in the fingertips of the winter branches,
The trembling hand adding the last, tiniest detail to the drawing,
The onion skin paper between the pages of the prayer book from the 1800’s,
This heart, this mind, this fluttering soul,
How does one allow for such vulnerable tenderness?
How does one be in the presence of such beautiful, holy fragility
Without feeling the impulse to crush?
How, dear Lord of sparrows and lilies,
Does one protect such delicate things?

The Wonder Child Blog

Sharing the Journey

Tag Archives: poetry

How It’s Supposed to Be

Declaration, Seed Poem II

The Miracle is This, Seed Poem I: The Evolution of a Poem

Limitless Possibilities

River of Grace

Christmas 2014

In Praise of Trees

You and Our and the Magical Arithmetic of Hope

12 / 13 / 14

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