Teach your children to plant trees.
Teach them to open their hands,
scatter seeds.
The world which would squeeze them to its mould,
would have them hold on tight,
bury them under its avalanche
of consumption.
Whereas breathing, living,
is found in breaking open,
pouring ourselves out.
Scattering the seed
which without there isn’t fruit.
Teach your children the beauty of creation.
How what we do makes a difference,
just in the act of doing.
The war for our children’s souls is quiet,
quiet as the drug that lulls them to sleep.
Open their hands, give them seeds.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
January 2022
Living Tree Poetry 