By Zeina Azzam

Seed, so tightly wound,
a tiny world waiting
for rain, rays, and
welcoming ground

to uncage your dream
unfurl your flag
create this intention
of brown and bright green.

Stem and leaves growing
as you open to the earth,
your small hands reach out
like rivulets, upward flowing

toward the nurturing sun.
Seed, this is the hope
you hold, our heritage
wrapped up in just one

small ovule, bud, grain,
to place in our pockets,
save for our children who,
like us, will pray for rain,

for many good seeds
that send green hands up
through generous soil
to proliferate, proffer, feed

the world. We plant and plow
for those in the womb
and onward to the white haired
among us, believing now

is the time to end hunger.
Seed, your dream is our harvest.
Together we nourish,
embody your wonder.

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