The Seed

 Image: Pawel Jonica

If I am the embryo of the seed,

let me call this in which I am planted

my Mother’s womb.

Here I am held.

Here I am nourished.

Here I am the possible human.

My umbilical chord is my root structure –

anchoring me to ancestral knowledge

and into the rich, organic detritus

of eroded lives

and savory fecal matter.

Everything that once was is a resource.

Everything.

Rain – the joy and grief of the world –

soaks and softens me.

Without it I become hardened, and

have no hope of intimacy with the light.

I must be cracked open to grow.

My limbs are the structures through which

my soul can reach, extending itself,

simultaneously longing to receive

and lamenting the ephemeral nature

of my gifts.

I show up because it’s how I pray.

I unfurl because it’s how I answer prayers.

I grow branches and leaves so that 

we have a place to meet.

I can bear flowers and fruit,

delicate, fragrant, and aphrodisiac sweet,

but not without having known relationship.

This is a place of co-creation.

Only the lonely believe in solitary forces

and the adversarial stance of their 

own mid-day shadow.

So, you see, these seeds of mySelf

that I place in your hands…

These are my way of saying, “I believe in you.”

I’m asking you to do the next planting.

~ Jamie K. Reaser
Published in "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"

Feel free to share