By Isabella Blakeley

 

Hate is a chestnut seed.

Give her time to grow.

To grow her roots down just deep deep enough to latch onto a soil that sustains. The soil bleeds its own water, for the chance the tree may latch and grow with its own nutrients.

Give her time time to grow.

Because over time that seed, planted into the once barren lands of prejudice, will turn into a sapling.

She will grow taller, still flexible, still movable, still persuaded, still able to change. Not yet able to spread her own seeds.

Not able to spread her own hate.

But able to change the landscape of that once barren land into something new, something foreign.

Before long, the land knows that the sapling has changed the atmosphere. That it has been tainted with the vile air from the young sapling. Not quite enough to starve the birds in the sky, but enough to make them choke.

Give her time to get bigger.

The sapling has now grown into a young tree, sticking out of the land like a sore thumb.

Her roots dig further than the soil that sustained her. It sucks water from deep deep below the surface, from depths which give new meaning to her growth.

Her youthful branches are impossible to climb upon. They are still malleable.

Changeable.

Wait awhile. Give it time to grow.

The tree has grown large.

Her branches reach farther into our daily lives than we care to realize.

Her fruits fester and sweeten with every judgment and categorization.

The seed thrives and grows into an impenetrable fortress.

She creates her own seeds and lets the winds of hate carry them further than these barren lands.

Creating an overwhelming forest within a short time.

Our skin becomes impenetrable like bark.

We can choose to be immovable. Our roots will grow deeper, our bark thicker, we will feed our trees with the waters of hatred and disdain.

We can choose to watch violence plant its seeds. We can choose to do nothing about the poison air that surrounds us. We learn to thrive off the poison as a child and learn to crave it as adults.

You live in your ecosystem.

If you only breathed the poison as a sapling, you needed it as a young tree and spewed it as a mature tree.

You cannot pick where you were planted, but you can choose what saplings you spread spread.

 

Love is a chestnut seed.

She grows on the same soil and her roots still mature with the same reservoirs of water.

Give her time to grow.

Because over time that seed, planted into the once barren lands of prejudice, will turn into a sapling.

She will grow taller, still flexible, still movable, still persuaded, still able to change. Not able to spread her own seeds quite yet.

Not able to spread her own love yet.

But able to change the landscape of that once barren land into something new, something foreign.

Before long, the land knows, that the sapling has changed the atmosphere. That it has been tainted with the sweet air from the young sapling. Not quite enough to save the birds in the sky, but enough to make a start.

Give her time to get bigger.

The sapling has now grown into a young tree, sticking out of the land, her presence obtrusive.

Her roots dig further than the soil that sustained her. They suck water from deep deep below the surface, from depths which give new meaning to her growth. She starts to grow differently, the young tree digs deeper and gets her nutrients from the new water deep underground.

Her youthful branches are impossible to climb upon. They are still malleable.

Changeable.

They have a strongness to them. A renewed tenacity on what truly matters.

Wait a while. Give her time to grow.

The tree has grown large.

Her branches reach further into our daily lives than we care to realize.

Her fruits fester and sweeten.

The seed thrives and grows into a guarded fortress that welcomes new perspectives.

She creates her own seeds and lets the winds of love carry them farther than before.

Creating an overwhelming forest within a short time.

Our skin becomes permeable like bark

We can choose to be immovable. Allowing our roots will grow deeper our bark thicker. We can choose to feed our trees with the waters of hatred.

Or we can choose to be willowy. Strong and able to sway in the winds of kindness. We can choose to drink waters that are harder to find. Our roots can choose to obtain water with more nutrient nutrients.

We can choose to watch violence plant seeds. We can choose to do nothing about the poison air that surrounds us. We learn to thrive off the poison as a child and thus learn to crave it as adults.

Or we can choose to do something about the violence, to be strong in the face of it. To be a fortress of intolarnce. To guard our saplings from the winds of hate. We can choose to cut off our poison supply and produce sweet air instead. We can choose to choke momentarily so we can thrive indefinitely.

You can live in your own ecosystem.

Or you can learn to seek our other ecosystems and learn how they sway in the winds, winds.

If you only breathed in the poison as a sapling, you needed it as a young tree and spewed it as a mature tree.

But you can choose to spread saplings that do not breathe the winds of hate. You can choose to change the barren landscape into a forest of love and compassion.

Like Anne Frank’s chestnut tree. Her willowy branches reached into Anne’s soul and pulled out hope from a place as dark as the attic she hid. Anne’s chestnut seed grew in a land filled with hate and

prejudice. But the tree stood tall as a symbol of hope and undenying resilience.

You can not choose what soil you obtain your nutrients from, but you can choose to expand your roots to find more nutrient nutrients.

You can not choose to be planted in lands of violence, but you can chose whether to be penetrable to hate or not.

You can not pick where you were planted, but you can choose what saplings you spread.

You can not choose to grow from a seed to a tree, but you can choose to stand taller and emit sweeter air, dwarfing the trees who spew poison.

Drink in the air of the chestnut tree of love.