Where is the seed
Of the tree felled,
Of the forest burned,
Or living root
Under ash and cinders?
From woven bud
What last leaf strives
Into life, last
Shrivelled flower?
Is fruit of our harvest,
Our long labour
Dust to the core?
To what far, fair land
Borne on the wind
What winged seed
Or spark of fire
From holocaust
To kindle a star?
Back to Kathleen Raine
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Comments1LOVE THIS POEM! REALLY RESONATES HOW UNDER ASH & CINDERS STILL EXISTS A LIVING ROOT, ITS DEEP. IT'S LIKE NO MATTER WHAT, LIFE FINDS A WAY. AWESOME!