Germination

In this uncharted place,

Seeds are my teachers —

Some have given their lives

for my learning,

teaching, in their dying,

what they needed

As for me, what I owe

is rapt attention —

I can’t assume I know a single thing —

This humble openness

is my gift

in which a seed may sprout —

I must maintain it

free of arrogance,

free of crippling doubt

They are so small 

to command 

so much of my time!

I imagine each of them

a fruiting plant, a meal,

a harvest . . . 

My understanding

is a tiny grain,

A well-soaked seed

ready to sprout —

So much it needs to grow

to be robust, a living system

thriving on its own

that will let me nurture life

with what I know.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 6, 2014