Easter Silence, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

Easter Silence


Jennifer Angelina Petro



I wonder if when

Jesus sat up in the tomb

On the third day, he was

Pulled suddenly alive

By a catching breath—

A breath surprising even

Unto himself?

Did he sit for little

Eternities listening to

Silence—or had

Silence scattered at the sound

Of the waiting angels

Opening their wings?

Whatever happened

To the sand his feet touched

As he stood?  Is the dust

Still in the mouth

Of the cave?

Did the little rocks and pebbles

That trailed behind the hem

Of his robe dragging over

The ground, one day become


For all I know, the tomb

Was always empty—ever not

Gestating a dead man.

Perhaps neither it nor he ever

Existed—which seems most likely given

Today.  This Easter silence

Finds us isolating in different parts

Of one, great cave—

Behind make-shift masks

Afraid to ever breathe






The Wandering Now, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

The Wandering Now


Jennifer Angelina Petro



Are there times, plural? Times

That exist multiplied, added,

Subtracted, divided?


Or is it one time and one time only?

Is it one borderless time—no alpha,

No omega time? No chronos,

No Kairos, no linear, no anywhere time?


We do know there are

Rhythms of moons and seasons,


We do know we breathe—


Our lives,

Our breath,


Sifts through many branches,

Spreads through many bodies,

Moves in a wind that is kin to silence—


Yet even amidst the changes that don’t

Really change, even amidst the sound

Living in silence, and the silence living in sound


It is still a breath—an expansion and contraction

Of our place in time—

A breath that is, in itself, a spirit,

A spirit that is, in itself, a body—

A body that is, in itself, the now made manifest.


And from where we stand,

In all of the mystery, and all

The effort to find a center


We blossom and wither

In no time at all—


So here we are—maybe

You need to join me in

Lifting our head, lifting our hands—

And with all the earnestness of a lost soul–

Say to the everywhere:

“Show me.”




First Snow, by Jennifer Angelina Petro

First Snow


Jennifer Angelina Petro



The sky says:



Hear that?  No?



Close your eyes,

Listen more.


Hear that? No?



That silence

Is there

For a reason.


Grab a coat,

Step outside,

Open your arms,

Lift your face to the sky.


Hear that?

Good.  Feel that?

Good.  That is

The reason, that is–

Such marvelous,

Dazzling stillness;

Such exquisite

Calm, such soothing

Kisses from winter’s

Hushed lips.


Breathe in, feel that—

That briskness and quickening.



There are

A million reasons,

So many reasons,

Each one crystalline

And delicate, yet

Powerful enough

To quiet the world—

If only for a moment—

If only long enough

For you


To feel and to listen

To love’s softening,

To winter’s patient



That silence is there

Not to threaten,

But to assure you

You are alive.


As you go back

Inside, to the noise

Of notifications

And important things to do—

You are invited,

You are allowed,

You are known.


You are part

Of the wisdom of the sky

That says: shh.


first snow buddha






Untitled by Jennifer Angelina Petro



Jennifer Angelina Petro



Lightening does not reveal the way.

Thunder illumines the silence that is.

When it’s all said and done

Silence will be all that’s left

Standing in the middle of the room,

Touching everything,

Touching nothing.




Please help me with medical bills and buying food. Thank you <3




Joseph Anthony


We all know
You will be the last one standing.

After all the fires and floods
You will step out from the ruins
And take your rightful place
At the center of all things.

How can we redeem ourselves now
Is there a way you can unfold yourself now
So that when the time comes for our souls
Is there a way of touching you now
So that when you drape us in your arms
Your embrace won’t feel so cold and foreign?
So that when the softening comes,
And the rendering, we won’t be so afraid
That we beg to be born again?

With all of our distractions and means
Of avoiding you we know we fear the thing
We want the most.

So please
Speak through us now so that we may learn
Your language, sing through us now
So that we may learn your melody,
Move through us now so that when our steps distill into dancing
We will fall joyfully into the feathers
Of your waiting and terrible wings.




Listen Heart

Listen Heart
Joseph Anthony Petro


Go easy on yourself.
You’re working hard giving birth to the soul.
Allow yourself to rest awhile in a bed of light,
And in the coolness of the soft-winged darkness—
The one that cradles seeds and roots,
The one that carries starlight faithfully on its shoulders
All those millions of millennia.
OK, so the mind you’re with has made some mistakes—
Cut him some slack. He is learning to live unchained
While at the same time bound in God’s care.
You say you feel empty and yet full of sorrow?
Those are contractions from what I am told.
Try and stay steady. I know you’re young,
You always will be. But you and the mind
Must work together during this process,
And you must take the lead.
I realize he is often busy in some fantasy, hating himself–
Find a way, lean on others—the midwives
You know so well. Let them help you,
Hold you, coach you along.
You are doing precious, incredible work—
So precious you might want to call it play–holy play.
You are freeing the soul from waves
That course in and out of you–
The ones that toss even the mind
Up and down in swirling eddies,
So the more light-hearted you can be the better.
And the mind is helping you
By learning to stay present no matter what you are feeling,
And your light helps him for he lives in darkness
Much of the time. So play. Play in hands of light,
And let the soul go, dear heart. Let her go, like a song,
Like a breath, like a prayer wept when you have no strength left.
Let her go the same way you want me to let you go,
The same way I want the mind to let me go—gently, gradually—now
And perfectly, with grace, humor, and dignity.
And while you and the mind work together on this,
I will be here, wrapped in silence, trying to believe
What I tell you–trying to believe that no matter what happens,
I am worthy of love.