I am the seed
so small, so dry,
lifted in the hand
of the silent Sower.
Into the earth
I fearfully fall,
darkness covers me,
silence surrounds me.
The terror of my heart
is the only sound
to keep me company.
All that is me
huddles together
trying desperately
not to surrender
any part of self.
“Why was I planted?”
I cry out.
“Why am I here?”
I entreat.
“Take me out into light;
I cannot bear
this deathly dark.”
I weary. I weaken.
The days become long.
I can no longer fight.
I surrender
in this lonely place
of waiting.
Quietly I sense
a penetrating warmth;
it surrounds me;
it fills me
and blesses my pain.
In a moment
of peacefulness
I forget my fear.
I let go of my self
and suddenly
the husk that holds me
weakens and breaks.
“No!” I scream.
I am losing my self,
but it is too late.
The husk is cracked,
I cannot be contained.
It is then
that I sense a power
deep inside of me,
encouraging
“Let go. Let go. Let go.”
It is an energy
that pushes the husk
until it falls away.
As it slips aside
my eyes behold color.
Ah, can it be?
A tiny glimpse of green.
“How could that be?”
I marvel,
“there was never green
in the heart of me.”
Yet, it is there;
each day
it slowly stretches upwards
to where the warm
seems to be.
I become less of a seed.
I am losing my self
but the pain I once knew
is lost in surprise;
something wonderful
is greening and growing
deep within my heart.
Days go quickly now.
I become one
with the small stem of life.
Oh, the glorious moment
when, ah, breath of Spring
fast fills my face.
I move through the hard earth,
and taste the world
that awaits my arrival.
From within my tender shoot
comes a soft sound.
I listen. I hear.
It is a song to the Sower:
O, Sower of seeds,
did you always see
this gift of green
that was hiding in me?
O Sower of seeds,
how came you to prize
the beauty within
that I hid from my eyes?
O Sower of seeds,
the husk has been broken;
all praise to you
for helping me open.
Accept now my praise,
my thankfulness, too,
for the seed you have sown
and the gift that you grew.
May you lead me to others
who await your good word,
so the seeds within them
can awake and be heard.
Amen, alleluia!
(From: Fresh Bread, Joyce Rupp, Ave Maria Press)
