That Stubborn Superhero, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

That Stubborn Superhero

By

Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

Out in nature, which is

To say, in us—it happens

This way:

 

The longest night comes

Filling what little day there is left

With thinly veiled darkness,

That, veil after veil, begins

To cover the day, like

A shawl thrown in slow motion

Over a lamp.

 

After the night has had its run,

It slowly—you’d better believe it—

Shrinks back to a more manageable size,

It contracts as the day exhales,

And with each exhalation, spring,

Moment by seemingly imperceptible

Moment—swells with such joy

It can barely contain itself.

 

And the light begins to coax the darkness

Into slipping away into time and to allow

Itself to grow its slow, wild warmth.

 

We have all gone through darknesses

That seemed to last forever—

At least—I have—when I couldn’t

Believe any light would ever come

Ever, ever, again, and that the abyss

Of not being able to see or hardly move

Would enshroud me forever.

 

If this has ever happened to you,

Or maybe is happening to you

Right now—believe it—spring always

Comes—little by hardly noticeable little

Darkness becomes less and less

And seeds of exhaultation can’t wait

To burst into flowers and tangible light.

 

I am not saying all darkness is bad.

There is a holy darkness, touched

With water and earth, where fireflies

Bedazzle the night, where love-making

Eases us into the sweetest sleep.

 

I am talking about the darkness

That swallows the will and chews it

Practically into nothing.

 

Just as too much light burns,

Too much darkness freezes the soul.

 

So, take my word for it—as someone

Who has been there and is taken there

Against my will every year—the swallowing darkness

Turns and slips away like a receding flood of black ink

Eventually, leaving gardens of survival,

Fragrant with honeysuckle,

And damp with laughter.

 

You’d better believe it,

Or if, like me, sometimes

That is impossible to do–

Pretend to believe it—or even if

That is too hard to do—don’t then–

Because its true regardless:

Never once has the night held captive

The day forever.  Day, that stubborn superhero,

Will break free of night’s weakening grasp,

And soar, ringing through the fields,

Leaving visible hope spreading

Over all the land.

 

tree hope


 

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Winter Solstice by Jennifer Angelina Petro

Winter Solstice
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro

 

 

frost

 

 

My life thinking
I was a man
Froze into one long
Winter solstice;
During the darkness
Of beards and switch blades
I moved through time asleep,
During the endless
City-silencing snow
Confused relationships
Shattered like ice-laden branches,
During the deep cold of addiction
And orgasms dissociation in the ceiling
Provided momentary relief
From this mist-filled body,
In the frost-shawled grass
I stood barefoot to see
If I was alive, and when it snowed
I would drop and make flocks
Of angels to see my imprint
In wings and a dress,
Little did I know
This solstice was a Bethlehem,
Little did I know
My spirit was ripe with child,
Little did I know
Herod would have killed me
By mistake,
Little did I know
Light grew in the womb
Of my soul,
And with each lengthening day
More of me crested
From the dark bush of the dark mother
Into the world of melting snow,
And mother darkness
Became my heaven
Swaddling me in thankful,
Earth-scented arms,
And now, as I shed these last days
Of winter,
I find myself
Stepping into my life
Born fully realized
As Ruth, lover of Naomi,
As Mary Magdalene,
Lover of alabaster and fragrance,
As one of the two women
Grinding together
In Luke, only when the night comes
We shall both be whisked away
Scented in the sweetest sin,
Swathed in the most holy darkness,
And carried to heaven’s bed
Where we can bloom a Summer Solstice
Between our oceanic bodies of bliss.

 

melting

 


 

 

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