Seed saving.

A handful of seeds
carried these many miles with
vigilance and love,

specks of promise in
the face of all that takes life
into nothingness.

What sense does it make
to save seeds? you ask, your tears
watering the ground.

They are here, I say,
like our beautiful children
who aren’t dead yet.

They are defiant,
tiny, brilliant warriors
who wait and prepare,

ready to unfurl
impassioned cotyledons
despite all the risk,

ready to stretch toward
a sun that was never meant
to last forever.

This is what they do.
They germinate with rapture
until they cannot.

 

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