The Seed
This story-poem came about through a conversation with my two older kids, Addie (8) and Ben (6). We were imagining what it would be like to try to explain to a seed what’s going to happen to them in the growing process. Around the table, we chatted and coloured about how mystifying it would be for a seed to understand the process of change, and what we would say to encourage them.
I pulled out the notes app on my phone later that day, and drafted out the poem. It sat there for a number of months, without a destination. Eventually, I published it on my own blog, where the kids got excited about it again. We printed it out, and they got to work illustrating it.
And that point, the poem wasn’t “done” yet, but I didn’t know where to take it. After the seed gets the speech, should it get planted? Should a mouse eat it? But when I saw Benjamin’s drawings (you’ll see these below, marked with an *asterix), I knew where we needed to go.
When my teammate Veronica and I started working on our podcast episode about holding space for what needs to emerge in a change process, we found ourselves making references to transformation processes in nature. I thought of The Seed, and suggested it might be an effective way to close off the episode.
So, a few months after the original inspiration, with some iteration and collaboration thanks to kids and colleagues, I invite you to enjoy…The Seed.
The Seed
I had a little chat
With my friend, the seed
And I tried to tell her
That one day she’d be a
zucchini plant.
And you know what she said?
“I don’t think that’s true.
I think I’ll be dead.”
“No, no,” I said.
“Here’s how it works.”
And then I explained
That if she goes in the dirt
And gets all covered up
And then watered with rain
She’s sprout right back up
As a new kind of thang.
“Ha! “ said the seed.
Oh boy, did she laugh.
“That won’t ever happen.
It will not. It can’t!!
If I go underground
And get covered in dirt,
Only one thing can happen.
It’s this: I’d get hurt.
A tiny old seed
Like me cannot change
From my tiny round shape
Into a new kind of thang.
I’m a seed. That’s my world.
That’s my job. That’s my name.
I live in this package
And I won’t ever change.”
“My seed, my dear seed,”
I said back to her then.
“I wish you could see
That this isn’t the end.
The shape that you’re in
Is not your last form
You won’t stay a seed
In fact, you’ll transform.
You will break apart
And yes, it will hurt
And yes, in the dark
And yes, in the dirt.
But after a while,
Reaching up for the sky
You’ll break through the soil
And come up, alive!
You’ll be greener than ever
You’ll even be brown
You’ll drink up the raindrops
You’ll grow in the ground
Your leaves, they will flutter
And here’s where it’s good:
You won’t just look pretty
You’ll even grow food!
Beautiful vegetables
That animals eat
That people can harvest
And sell in the street
And when it’s all over
You’re not done the deed
You’ll also be growing:
…a hundred more seeds!”
When all of my talking
finally came to an end,
I closed up my mouth
and I looked at my friend.
I expected a smile
or maybe a cheer
but instead what I saw
was one tiny tear.
I asked her, “What’s wrong?”
“How come you are sad?
That vision of changing —
I thought you’d be glad!”
She looked at me then,
Looked me straight in the eye.
And then what she said next,
Made me want to cry.
“That story you told me,
Makes me feel alone.
If I’m in the dirt,
I’ll be on my own.”
I wanted to challenge,
and try to persuade.
I wanted to tell her:
“Believe in the change!”
Instead I just nodded.
I looked in her face.
I said, “I believe you.
You’re feeling unsafe.
You’re lonely. You’re scared.
You’re all by yourself.
You don’t want to change,
without anyone else.”
She nodded and sighed.
Then I sat in the dirt.
“I’m with you,” I told her.
“Loneliness hurts.”
We sat there a while,
the two of us then,
Just down in the dirt,
The two of us friends.
It lasted a while,
and neither one talked.
The quietness mattered.
It mattered a lot.
I stayed there beside her,
Not saying a word.
I’d rinse her with raindrops,
and shoo away birds.
And as the days passed,
She started to change,
And yes, a zucchini plant
Finally came…
As sunshine was soaking
her speckled green skin,
I thought that I saw
her zucchini face grin.
“I didn’t need speeches,”
said the one who had seeded.
“But someone beside me,
was just what I needed.”
