Creating the World, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

Creating the World

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

Most of us know how

The world around us

Helps shape us—

Our morals, likes

And dislikes, ways of seeing,

How we listen, and to whom.

 

For the sake of this poem, however,

I am not just referring to the world

As society and culture,

And the morays we absorb

So easily and release so stubbornly.

 

I am speaking of the air,

The world-forces of creation,

How we are born into movement,

And how the boundaries

Of skin and bone are sung

Into form as we live, move,

And have our being in the world,

Literally sculpted as we go

By the responsive hands of space.

 

Now, here, as you move,

As you get up from your chair

To walk across the room,

As you go to dress, or eat,

Or kneel in prayer,

As you reach out to a lover

Or to pick up an infant,

Or hand the cashier your change,

Or receive an embrace,

Know, now, here, you

Are sculpting the world.

 

The very space you move

Within-to-with, you shape—

 

The air, the back space

And the many little circles

And planes you walk this day—

Become embodying language;

Your movements create

Form and living paintings

In space and time and breath,

The world responds

To your every movement,

Your every touch, and push;

 

You unfold and color the world–

As you propel forward—

The way parts and blooms around you

As if you were swimming

In a sea of impressionable air—

Because you are.

 

As you live through-with

This day, delineating your space,

Open your movements—

Your arms and the myriad

Of little dances you do,

Widen your gestures, welcome

And invite, give and receive,

Describe space with grace and purpose—

Adorn the world

With you.

 

 


 

 

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The Way, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

The Way

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

The seed,

The blossom,

The egg,

The wings,

The chrysalis,

The storm,

The spring,

The hands,

The voice,

The heart,

Covers and blankets,

Grief and rage,

The mind,

The memory,

The questions,

Faith and darkness,

Stories and galaxies,

The way and years,

Everything loosens

And gives way

To unfolding.

 

 

 

 


 

 



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Where I Belong, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

Where I Belong

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

Sitting in my one room efficiency—a place I have come

To call, my burrow, I find myself

Looking back at memories of my life

And what I see are little trails—

Soundless except my mind gives them sound—

Little trails that veer off into woods

Or branch out into other trails–

They show events and conversations—

Happening right there in the path—

People emerge from the tall grass,

Say their lines, then disappear once again back

Into the field, and as I think of these memories

Some rise around bends, like mountains,

Others like bodies of water, and still others

Like wide valleys of snow, and I realize

I am not really looking back, but forward—

Looking for where the trails lead, if in fact

They lead anywhere—

For the very idea of going from here to there—

Of starting out and then winding up someplace—

Of following the trajectory of an event–

Suddenly seems effortlessly silly.

 

Where am I going?  What gives me the right

To go even imagine I am going anywhere?

Why do I suppose that this life leads somewhere

Or to some time? Why do I need to know

It has a happy ending?

 

Sitting here, alone, in the silence of my books,

I stop roaming the trails and foothills

Of memory, and instead, write this down–

And suddenly the answer appears before me—

Ink spilling form forward leaving letters as trails

And I am full of the emptiness that I have to

Go anywhere.

 

Here, with you,

Is where I belong.

 

 

img_20161108_145511

 

 


 

 

 





Surfing the Spectrum

Surfing the Spectrum
By
Joseph Anthony Petro

 

 

Darkness lives as shadows
In every sun-drenched day,
Stars and eyes of animals
Betray light shining in every night–
Travel to the end of the day
And you will stumble
Into the arms of the moon,
Venture to the end of the night
And fall into the lap of the sun–
Try cleaving the back of a coin
From its front,
Know that all genitals
Begin as one–
Try finding the middle ground
Between walking and standing—
Straight and curved travel
One continuous line–
Every breath we take sustains
And destroys us—
Bathe in dark waters dappled in moonlight,
Revel in wonder of trying to experience
Getting as close to the truth as you can—
Time and space flow like rivers—
Step into the ever-expanding now–
Surf the spectrum that blooms an eternity of color,
Skate the rainbow of possibilities spilling from infinity–
Be who you long to be—
Sing as you long to sing—
Live as you long to live—
Express as you long to express—
Reveal as you long to reveal—
Sleep as you long to sleep—
Awaken as you long to awaken–
Darkness lives as shadows
In every sun-drenched day,
Stars and eyes of animals
Betray light shining in every night–
Travel to the end of the day
And you will stumble
Into the arms of the moon,
Venture to the end of the night
And fall into the lap of the sun

 

spectrum

 

 


 

 

 





River of Grace

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.


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