Dark earth, softened by recent rain,
hides a burrowing root-tip
and a tiny pair of leaves unfolding
within a bursting hull.
Seeds, growing underground.

She’s not showing yet, but already
within the child she’s carrying,
a girl, meiosis has begun.
Details of the grandchildren
of this pregnant teenager
being decided now.
Seeds, growing out of sight.

The teacher turns sighing
from his smirking charges.
He tried to convey something he deeply believes,
something that two of them will use
thirty years from now
to change the world.
Seeds, growing in the dark.

The rebellion is crushed,
the last rebels hanged.
The king, victorious, raises taxes.
No one dares speak up.
Despair settles like pollen.
The success of the revolution to come
is now assured.
Seeds, growing underground.

Updated: November 1, 2018 — 4:36 pm

The Author

Mary Wildfire

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