Waiting for your heart to open

You sit waiting 

for your heart to open,

to reveal the words 

you need to write,

like waiting for a blossom 

to push its green shoots up 

out of the earth

and unfold its petals.

You close your eyes 

and listen to your breath,

your pen motionless 

above the blank page,

waiting,

like waiting for 

a starter's gun to go off,

like waiting for birds 

to arrive at the bird feeder,

like waiting 

for a fish to bite

and the line to grow taut.

You sit listening to the clock on your desk 

ticking away the minutes

wondering if words 

will ever come

or if you'll sit here

wrapped in silence

forever

waiting for your heart 

to open a crack,

for the first word

to slip out

onto the page,

then the next word, 

and the next.

Patience, you whisper.

Trust, you tell yourself.

The words will come.

Just touch the paper with your pen 

and begin...