Sitting With Sadness, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

Sitting with Sadness


Jennifer Angelina Petro



Time slows like it does on long summer afternoons,

You smell the scent of rain even though there is a cloudless sky,

You get up to go about your day and sadness follows you like a moveable river,

You resist impulses to drown out her sobbing with food, sex, spending—

You feel her rocking back and forth in your heart causing you to do the same in your chair,

Trees whisper windy syllables through the curtains and gently tousles your hair,

Bees hover around your house making sure you understand sadness brings gifts of honey,

Cicada song drones through the sky in waves and settles into the hollow places deep in your bones,

A terrible longing–timeless and holy, lives in her tears and touches yours,

And when she decides to leave, she assures you she will return,

And if you are able, you will sit with her again as she weeps around the roots of your being.


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Child of Sadness, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

Child of Sadness


Jennifer Angelina Petro




She came to me in silence,

Stepping from a shroud of light,

I saw her coming from a long distance away,

And stood as still as I could.

When she reached me

And looked at me with tear-filled eyes,

I offered her my hand and she took it,

And we sat in the field

For long summer hours as she wept without ceasing,

Dragonflies and bees and dandelion seeds

Floated around us like dreams.

We sat there in the field—

Her sobbing from a river of sadness,

Me bearing witness to her pain.

And this time, never once trying

To take away her suffering.  This time,

Surrounded by the gentle hum of angel wings,

This time honoring who she was,

I listened, wide eyed, and heart open,

As she filled my soul with tears.








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I’m Not Supposed to Tell You–Original Version

Note:  In the version I published yesterday I felt my usual need to be responsible and hopeful and redemptive for you.  I couldn’t bear to leave you with how I was truly feeling–and that’s not a “bad” thing–that quality I love about myself–most of the time.  Often I do not know where I leave off and you begin and I get confused about my desire to save everyone.  Anywho, the original version of this poem is the one posted today.  The second half that I added yesterday is still true and I am deeply grateful for the hope and love I receive from others.  Today, however, and when this poem was born,  I am in an inner hurricane, and no, I will not hide that today.  Joseph

Special thanks to Mindy for not being afraid.


I Am Not Supposed to Tell You
Joseph Anthony


I am not supposed to tell you
How steeped I am in self-hatred;
How I feel like a sand mandala slowly
Blowing away grain by grain;
This heart you think you know
Is not mine. My heart is an albatross
Lost at the bottom of the sea.
A dark angel shifts heavy, smothering wings
Inside my chest. A wind-tossed night sky
Searching for morning, blankets
My basic, human sense of self.
I am not supposed to tell you that.
I’m supposed to worry about what you
Think of me; what will happen
Now that you know—
I’m not supposed to tell you that either.
You tell me: this too, shall pass.
I am not supposed to tell you:
Those words enter a man’s ears but are heard
By a child’s—a child who hears you
But cannot help looking passed you
At the storm gathering behind you—the one
Unfurling like a monster made of smoke—
The one heading this way.








Echo, Sadness

Echo, Sadness
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.