Poetry On Odyssey: The Crack
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Politics and Activism

Poetry On Odyssey: The Crack

A poetic view of the world.

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Poetry On Odyssey: The Crack
Pexels.com

There is a crack.

It grows slowly, steadily, spreading, reaching the bed of the Dead Sea, crushing the peak of Kilimanjaro.

There is a crack.

It rings with the sound of screams, bombs, gunshots, trash compactors, protest, political jargon.

There is a crack.

It moves, crumbling buildings, melting the ice caps, paying the rich, depleting the poor.

There is a crack.

It carries ignorance, privilege, disease, malnourishment, slavery, pollution.

There is a crack.

It breaks the bridges that close gaps, silences the weak, places bias in information, ignores greater good.

There is a crack.

It is deep, wide, dark.

There is a crack.

It insists fear, caution, rash judgments.

There is a crack. . .

. . . and it opens the door.


In the crevasse, the deepest cut, there lies possibility, opportunity, hope.


There is a seed.

One seed, one tiny seed.

There is a seed.

It will fall, unseen, unnoticed, uncared for into the crack.

There is a seed.

It will nestle in the soil, rest on the earth, embrace rock bottom.

There is a seed.

It will make the difference, bridge the gap, fill the void.

There is a seed.

It will be nourished by the flesh of the fallen.

There is a seed.

It will be watered by the tears of the world.

There is a seed.

It will be lit by the sparks of hope.

There is a seed. . .

. . . and the seed will grow.


In the seed, the emblem of hope, there lies potential, strength, resilience.


And the seed grows.

Its roots grab the soil, reach out, hold fast; the first stitch.

And the seed grows.

Its roots flourish, filling the gap, holding fast, growing slowly, solidifying the ground.

And the seed grows.

Its sprout appears, a single leaf, a ripple of hope.

And the seed grows.

Its sprout is cared for, watered, loved, guarded by those with open eyes and hopeful hearts.

And the seed grows.

Its roots fill the gap, recognized, protected; its sprout is supported, nourished, watched.

And the seed grows.

It closes the gap, stitching the wound, reconstructing our world.

And the seed grows.

It becomes a tree, a beacon for hope, a symbol of unity, potential, healing.

And the seed grows. . .

. . . and grows and grows and grows.


In the tree, the embodiment of resilience, there lies truth, love, unity.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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