I have been waiting in great anticipation to share this publication with everyone. It’s always such a blessing to my heart to see my words in print, and as an acceptance from Door is a Jar Magazine was unexpected, it makes it even sweeter.
I first connected with this magazine on twitter #writingcommunity.
Door is a Jar is a print and digital literary magazine of poetry, short fiction, nonfiction, drama and artwork. Our publication focuses on writing that is accessible for all readers.
Their emphasis on accessibility for all and clarity so that everyone can enjoy and understand the stories and poems they publish is right in line with what I am all about. I enjoy academic and literary works but my heart is where the simple becomes beautiful.
“Within the cover letter please include your full name, contact info, and a fun 3-sentence bio, which will be published in the magazine. (We’re not as interested in how many degrees you have, or how widely you’ve been published. Instead, we want to hear about the real you. We want to know about the little things that spur you along.)”
Have you ever pulled a plant out of those flimsy plastic pots they start them in at greenhouses and garden departments? It always scares me when I do.
What if I damage the flower? What if I damage roots as I pull it from its home?
But the truth is, that little plant NEEDS to be pulled from the plastic, and planted in good earth. It won’t thrive confined like that, even surrounded by its siblings. That plastic tray was made to only be a safe starting place.
Don’t stay in your plastic pot. We are meant for so much more.
Have you heard the plastic pull as knife slides across bag of black earth? Have you felt the beginnings of warmth as matter clings to fingerprints and stains nails dark? The dirt is chill. Yet the warmth flows, packed in pots of hope. Have you listened to the rustle of paper release seeds from captivity? Smallness containing miraculous promise. Snow may linger, but add a pane of glass to a sun of spring and greenhouses blossom in earliest spring. It makes my heart ring. Simple actions reminding, surrounded by soil’s grounding scent.
Spring, a time many of us long for after a long dark winter. We grow again and unfurl our blooms… Just to have a frost crisp their edges.
Some of us weather it fine, some of us might carry blackened scars from unexpected transitions. Still, some of us might have to drop our first blooms. But don’t worry, you will grow new ones. Whispers of what once was, and promises of what will still be.