They bury us deep, but we’re the seeds!
We carry our first names, and last names, and deeds.
We own our stories of struggles and love.
We can’t lay in darkness, unseen from above.
Sand, soil, and dirt only help us grow strong.
We reach for the surface, reciting our song.
It’s speaking of sunlight, and freedom, and spring.
They kill us and bury, but death they can’t bring.
They tomb us alive, push us out of sight,
‘Cause ashes and dust can’t embolden or fight.
But just like Antaeus, we open our eyes:
The deeper they bury, the stronger we rise.
So what if they bury us! Surely, I bet,
The days of our lives aren’t numbered just yet,
To injure, to bury does not mean “destroy”,
Without our presence there won’t be spring’s joy.
The light from above will revive us and heal,
Encourage to flourish and strengthen our will.
A sprout, full of life, will emerge in the plains,
Denouncing death, sending zeal through our veins.
We reach for the light, unrelenting and fierce,
‘Cause such is our nature – the nature of seeds.
In spite of their aim, we will ripen and thrive.
They bury us deep, but the seeds are alive!