Except a grain of wheat
fall, catch the current of the wind,
and lose all sense of direction,
to rest in a place unbidden and foreign,
it remains a single grain.
Yet, unbridled or contained,
and at the mercy of God’s faithfulness,
it bears the seed for the new season’s harvest.
It becomes new bread.
Yes, I think it is that what often looks like death,
or lack of fruitfulness, is instead,
just the time it takes
for the gift of life to flourish.
And tears, and gestures, or words,
the frustrated expressions
from good intents gone vaguely wrong,
or not as we would have determined;
the love that appears to be in vain.
They bear our heart’s cries as seed;
while God’s purposes he sometimes shields,
from our current understanding.
So that just like grain, or leaves,
or anything that falls,
we find next season’s yield,
is often stored
in the remains of the first.
Apparent death just the shedding
of the husk,
that brings about new birth.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
June 2017
“Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.”
(John 12:24)
“…He prepares the earth for his people and sends them rich harvests of grain.” (Psalm 65:9)