On Behalf of Seeds
I proposed a day of the seed to Salvador Allende: seedbeds greening
the rooftops and squares into forests and gardens, cities and fields into edens.
Allende laughed and said pensively: “maybe by the year two thousand.”
Every year I gathered and planted seeds.
When the small trees reached 20 cm I gave them away.
The seed’s steps:
gathering many seeds in one place
to watch and watch over seeds.
Only a collective gesture of love can turn back destruction.
(The forests, cut down and burned.)
The seed has waited all this time to seed.
Sprouting and waiting they are.
Some wait three thousand years, others a few minutes.
Keepers of an inner time, they know when to jump.
Some have parachutes, others weight.
Every seed is a space ship, a nomad planet waiting to sprout.
Santiago, 1971
