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.

 

 

 


 





What If?

What If?
By
Joseph Anthony Petro
Inspired by Father J.P. de Caussade, S.J.

What if we were being written as we speak,
As we live, as we move? What if our lives were one
Interconnected, interwoven revelation? One story,
One plot, one theme? What if our every step and breath
Were known, seen, loved, and allowed to unfold
In ways that always and ever ended with breath-taking
New beginnings, and that every new beginning
Was somehow more beautiful, unexpected, and startling
Than the last? What if every revelation, every new chapter,
Every page was part of one book of life in which the author intended,
Willed and wanted the very best for each and every character
And that every word, punctuation mark, indentation,
And sentence was composed through you with foresight and wisdom,
And that somehow, matter what it seemed like fit together perfectly,
And that when we went back and read what was written
It all made sense and we said, “Of course, that was meant to be?”
What if, despite not liking some of the twists and turns
And cliffhangers, or the sudden, unexpected
Exits of our favorite characters, or the annoying returns
Of ones we just can’t stand, that no matter how
Convoluted, distressing, painful, or tragic it all seems,
That the arc of the story is eternal and the ultimate
Storyline is a road to everlasting joy and a deeper understanding
Of who we really are? What if the more that drops away
As we go on reading, and the more the story
Simplifies, that we become lighter and lighter until one day,
On what we thought was the last word, the letters suddenly lift, like
So many birds scattering heavenwards,
And the story continues, unfettered, untangled,
Unencumbered by the confines of the language
Of time and space and expectation, and we soar, completely free
In a radiant book of thanks?