How did you get here?
Perhaps there was a big bang, and so you were.
Maybe you hit the ground running as fast as your legs could take you.
Was it so that you opened you mouth and words poured out perfectly?
Perchance all that was obtainable was already yours.

My journey was not of such ease.
I was birthed after hours of labor.
For every step I walked I fell six times before.
For months my tears and laughs were my only way of expression.
My parents, as many, knew patience.

Our parents, our teachers, our siblings, even ourselves: we had patience.
We are here because of it.

Now we can marinate our meat for flavor, but we pop diet pills for fast results.
Now we can slow cook our meals, but we abuse drugs to erase our sorrows.
Now we can raise a baby, but we let go of precious relationships too easily.
Now we can be a teacher, but we give up on ourselves.

Patience is putting in the effort for results, even when we don’t see the results for weeks, even months.
Patience is choosing the narrow road, even when the wide one is less lonely.
Patience is taking all the loops, kinks, and bumps as they come; and not giving up after the first couple roadblocks.
Patience is to love unconditionally, even if we have to step back for a little while.

Patience is all rage; we all need more of it.

We are all patients for patience, but we get too sick of waiting.
Our doctor was there, our remedy too, but a cheap high walked past and we chased it.