Surprises
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
They are everywhere.
Every moment, every
Single thing in your life–
And ever it shall be so–
Is a surprise.
The turkey buzzard gliding, like
A black cloak loose in the sky,
The letter from England amidst the circulars,
The cardinals tangling and untangling
In the winterberry bush,
The first cabbage butterfly of spring,
This breath, this step, this ability
Of your heart to beat without you
Even thinking about it,
The ship of sleep arriving
At the harbor of your consciousness,
The frog at the wheel, tipping his hat
As you climb aboard, the waking up
In your bed, in your room, in your body,
The channa masala, the mango lassi,
The crunch of the toast in the morning,
The surprise you are and the gifts you give—
You get the idea.
And yes, there are unpleasant surprises.
We know this and yet we continue walking–
Through the graveyard, flowers in hand,
Into the kitchen where the difficult conversation awaits,
Into the hospital room where a loved-one fades,
Through waking up with a fever,
Through the snow storm in April,
Through the changing of the tire
On your way to the concert—
This certainty of a lifetime of surprise
Can be disconcerting, along with
The uncertainty of the surprise
Of what happens when your last breath
Joins the spirits at your bedside;
And yet, we keep moving, and sometimes
We curl up and rest, and other times
We simply stand where we are—afraid to move–
Eventually, we will take another step,
And the road will bloom, and the fear
May turn into wonder, and the living awake,
And the frog turning the wheel and shouting:
“Hoist the anchor! Make sail! The wind is at our backs,
The horizon is calling: “Try and catch me, if you can.”
