Rocks in Jars

I’m sitting with a resume and a rock

Not my resume and not a real rock

A symbolic rock because rocks are

unique and overlooked

 My friend’s resume is a jar of rocks

Rocks from his past, put into a jar

Each holding its own space,

Yet allowing space

There is a prison rock inside the jar

Worn from years

Jagged and dark as the years that formed it

But the rock is old and covered with other rocks

 Father, friend, student, leader

 I’m reading a resume that does not begin to describe

The rock of a man

The soul it belongs to

I’m reading words that can’t possibly tell the story of a life

 Jagged, dark, earnest, rich

We all have our jars

And our rocks

And our life

We become the sum of our stones and our seasons

 Beautiful, hard-found, tenderly-held.