Mustard Seed

    by Laura Levesque

It is like a grain of mustard seed, which... is less than all the seeds that be in the earth:

But when it is sown, it groweth up, and becometh greater than all herbs...

                                                                  Mark 4:30–2

We are deep into summer.

Our minutes, days and weeks

burned through these decades past,

marked by the sun

arcing high toward midday,

towards the center

of all we’ll ever be.

I have come with my mustard seed.

My house burned all around me.

Smoke thick about me everywhere,

I pulled the babies from their beds

and got us out alive.

There’s nothing

but ashes in my mouth.

I carried the seed deep

in my breast pocket.

I guard it with my life.

It dances within

at the sight of black earth,

the smell of warm rain,

the heat of the sun.

It divines every truth,

tuned pitch-perfect.

It sings a melody

of home.

Laura Levesque grew up in Baltimore, MD.  She earned her Bachelor’s in Creative Writing and English Literature from the University of New Mexico at Albuquerque.  She is an active member of several online poetry boards and has been published in The Montage, Mirage, Alphabet Soup, and others.

© 2009 Laura Levesque