April 5, 2011

"How insignificant I seem,"
said the little seed,
"Why do I compare me
to the olive tree?
Nothing comes easy,
not even melodies.
And honestly,
I don't need your sympathy.
Farmers sow and reap -
they like what they see -
but I'm painted in ivory.
My envy screams like a cacophony
but You resist the urge to leave.
You stop and look at me,
the lonely little seed;
You rest me on Your knee
and tell me how I'm lovely.
Then You plant me by the sea
and I have life, suddenly,
like You've handed me an eternal key.
I begin to grow and spring
from the dirt and soiling;
I shower down my many leaves
and they drift off in evening breeze.
I am not an olive tree,
for I have been made differently,
but I am slowly blossoming
into who I was made to be."

© 2011 Kaeli Riccardi