Tag Archives: prayer

Naming the Way, by, Jennifer Angelina Petro

Posted on by

Naming the Way

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

Go outside late October.

Lock your eyes on one falling leaf.

Try to find the moment

As close to the beginning

Of it’s letting go from the branch

As you can. Really follow that leaf—

That one in a million leaf.

Train your eyes on it.  Focus.

Notice the way the wind carries it,

Breathes it.  Watch how it turns

Gently over and around, catching little

Fleeting currents, and then

Smoothing out into a kind

Of easy drifting.  Its descent held

In the palms of the wind.  See

How golden.  See how tenderly

It is placed in the stream.

Give that leaf a name—your

Name, and then,

Go back inside

To pray.

 

 

 


 

Buttercup Road, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

Posted on by

Buttercup Road

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

When you go out you see.

The world opens a little more

With every turn of your gaze.

 

Yesterday, I walked the stretch of sidewalk

I call, Buttercup Road.  It’s lined with buttercups on both sides,

And if that doesn’t sting you with joy

Check your pulse.

 

I bent down to look more

Closely, each and every buttercup

Trembled with glee at the release of being seen—

Of little, old me witnessing their golden,

Shiny faces; of me getting close enough

I could have kissed them, petal by petal—I could have—

But didn’t.  I kissed them instead with praise and adoration,

And their hands opened wider for more.

 

That evening, I went back to visit them.

The sun was setting, the sky a splendid swirl

Of the transgender flag, and there they were—

Their faces cloaked in prayer, their hands cupping

The sun inside, their lips parted, touched

With moonlight all night long, I said to them:

“You dear, little lockets of honey, you holy, little chalices of sweetness,

I realize you are not here for me, you are here, like me,

For the sun; thank you for drawing my footsteps

Closer to the light.”

 

 

 


 


However, It Is, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

Posted on by

However, It Is

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

However it is trees really come about, however it is

The moon inhales and exhales, however it is

Raven feathers hold rainbows in their barbs, however it is

We have school yards full of children inside us,

However it is we grow, pouring cells into the world of form

Rising and falling, however it is, the soul is ever thirsty

With oceans living there, however it is birdsong

Follows us wherever we go, however it is we love,

Rising and falling, however it is we dream, however

It is we remember our dreams, however

It is we are immersed in sky, like fish in water, however

It is flowers are so wonderfully geometric, however

It is the earth spins like a whirling dervish, however

It is we search for ourselves in one another, however

It is we kill in God’s name, however

It is we still pray, however

It is, however, it is; however,

It is.

 

flower

 


 

 

All donations go to medical expenses and groceries.  Thank you. <3

Today, After Praying, by jennifer angelina petro

Posted on by

Today, After Praying

By

jennifer angelina petro

 

 

Something changed.

A mountain got up

and danced away,

water broke from stone,

darkness fled my mind, like

so many angry crows,

a door opened,

a lost sheep was lifted

onto great shoulders

and carried home,

a way became clear,

a woman, clothed with the sun,

kissed my forehead,

light flooded my room,

windows opened

to bird song and blue sky,

feet were washed,

bread was placed

into tired hands,

answers dawned,

questions fell away, like

so many pieces of armor,

doubts were dispelled, like

melting snow.

Something changed.

In the twinkling of an eye,

In the speaking of his name,

Heaven bowed

And welcomed me home.

 

 

 

This poem is for Mandy.

 


 

 

 




Prayers, Soaring

Posted on by

Prayers, Soaring

For Eden

by

Joseph Anthony Petro

 

eden praying 2

 

 

In the center
Of the field
The child,
Hands together,
Prayed the circle
Be one, bowed
Hoping it was so,
Turned, saw spirit
Everywhere;
And the flowers
And clouds, the passing
Heron, the nearby river
Sung the hope
Into sweet and fierce truth—
And then—hands open,
Sky embraced, the child,
Realized and full
Of grace, smiled, like
The sun, like the moon,
Like a constellation
Of a million stars,
In a universe made
Of pure adventure.

 

 

 


 

Thanksgiving, A Little Story on the Nature of Prayer, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

Posted on by

Thanksgiving,

A Little Story on the Nature of Prayer

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

A prayer hung heavily on a branch of the Tree of Life. Ripening over centuries, it grew sweeter with age and the persistence of faith.  One day the Gardener strolled by, singing as usual, and plucked the prayer from the Tree, and with great gusto, took a hearty bite, letting the juices river down his chin.

 

“Now that,” he said, talking with his mouth full, “is a good prayer.”

 

He continued to eat the prayer, crunching down to the core. When he got to the star shaped seeds he carefully picked them out and then casually, gracefully, and with intention, dropped them to earth.  Weeping for the sheer ecstasy of having been touched by the Gardener’s hands, the seeds fell for days and weeks through open, pristine space, tossed here and there by currents of sound and desire.  They danced as they descended—leaning into little pirouettes and whirled in sweeping spirals, down, down, down they drifted and eventually landed precisely where the Gardener intended them to go—right into the hearts of a little boy and his father.

 

The little boy had prayed prayers of gratitude all night, for his father hadn’t had a drink in over three months; and the father, weeping in thanks for finally having been freed from the chains of his disease, had prayed prayers of gratitude all night as well.  The seeds nestled in their hearts and, because they were prayers of thanksgiving, sprouted quickly, spreading their holy fire into entire orchards of flourishing trees right through the dark valleys of the lives of that boy and his father.  Soon the boy and his father would be harvesting the fruits of their prayers, and sharing them in heaping bushels with each other, their neighbors and friends, and the world.

 

“A beautiful day,” the Gardener said as he plucked another prayer from the Tree, “thanksgiving is blossoming everywhere.”

 

 


 

 

All donations go to medical bills and groceries.  <3