I Love You Amidst Your Pettiness

The poets say love encompasses all.

Love is the container

it does not leak

not even if it is thrown into the field and neglected

for a season

because a family member

had more than one

and did not understand

some people do not have even one container.

Filled with dirt, algae and moss, love lies on its side

waiting

waiting for the one who threw it

to remember

hopes they will remember without being reminded

how hard was the throw

how neglectful the thoughts of containment

as an entitlement.

The vessel stretches out in the warm sun

and waits.

She has more lessons to teach

and is also getting tired.

Will the one from whose hand she was flung

ever grow up and realize containment is not earned or won

it is given and can die or wither if left alone

unattended?

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