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.

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.