Words by Anonymous.
Illustration by Kimberlyn Kiew.
You can split a seed from its skin,
Or peel a grade of grass in two,
However thin. Just like my life:
One half is bare. See it just there
Like something lying in a field,
Open to the sun and rain,
It laughs and cries. Then laughs again.
The other life is deep within.
It never moves. It has no sight,
But, hidden deep beneath the ground,
It breathes the earth. It knows no sound.
No one brings it good or ill.
Nothing makes it sing or thrill.
It cannot tell the day from night.
But who can say? With time and grace,
A buried seed may stir in place,
And seek the air, as might a child
Seeking out its mother’s breast.
For now you rest. But don’t forget,
O buried one, you haven’t died.
You’re still alive. Beloved yet.
From the author: This piece means something to me but might not mean much to anyone else. It was kind of an exhortation to not lose hope and to remember that even when part of you feels like it is locked away in a valley and can't get at what's good and true, that can change.