Writers 
The Jar That Taught Itself to Wait
A jar was kept on the window sill by me.
Not for use in water.
Flowers are not for sale.
for the quiet that builds up when nobody is looking.
The morning mist obscured the view.
It was not wiped by me.
I continued to breathe.
Allow the light to master the art of gathering in corners.
People inquired, "What's inside?"
I declared, "Nothing yet."
They chuckled.
They have no idea how much
Nothing can withstand.
The weeks went by slowly like rain.
I forgot to check.
The point was that.
Fruit does not hurry for witnesses.
The following Tuesday,
The jar exhaled.
Not a single crack
There is a gap.
A thin gold line of light emerged.
and discovered the table's scratches.
and thought they were stunning.
I understood then:
The light was not growing on me.
I was growing under the light.
demonstrating to my hands how to hold without grabbing.
preparing my eyes to perceive without looking.
On the shelf, the jar is now empty.
It is not broken to me.
I call it evidence.
that things can begin in the shadows,
Never ask for anything,
and continue to choose to become
As a result, I stopped hurrying the harvest.
ceased accumulating days like coins.
I simply secure the jar.
And allow whatever is developing to take your time.
because of certain
only be opened when you stop requesting it.
