Day 40- 10.26.20
A lesson in trust (from a barren tomato plant)
When I saw the seeds there
on the cutting board, in a pool of
it’s own juice, I thought to myself
“Yes, absolutely, of course
this is the moment for me
to grow myself my own tomato.”
It hasn’t worked out that way—not yet.
Seven months later and
the handful of seeds I washed, dried,
planted, watered, and tended to
with Olympic discipline,
they have grown, yes, but
should you visit me here
and take a look for yourself—
well you’d see a green monster,
all gangly-limbed with hundreds of leaves
and sturdy stems, standing four feet tall,
but no tomatoes in sight.
My tomato plant is grand
in the way a temple is grand
and it stands with such a profound dignity
on several occasions I’ve felt shy
in its presence.
Now, it’s lower leaves have begun to wilt
and turn pale and morose—and just
at the precise moment
its highest branches
began showing signs
I‘be been meditating on this
on this most upsetting botanical mystery.
I’ve been staring at this rascal of a plant and seeing myself.
When I am most quiet and most open,
I hear this: When parts of ourselves are dying
other parts are preparing