Every time I plant a seed, He say kill it before it grow, he say

Bob Marley, prophet of song and messenger of freedom, once sang with lament and fire: “Every time I plant a seed, he say kill it before it grow, he say kill it before they grow.” These words, wrapped in melody, carry the sorrow of a people and the eternal struggle of the oppressed. For the seed is not merely a plant, but a symbol of hope, of change, of truth struggling to rise from the soil of injustice. And the hand that crushes it is the hand of oppression, which fears the power of growth more than it fears the presence of weakness.

The image of the seed is ancient. It is small, fragile, unseen, yet within it dwells a mighty tree, a forest, a revolution of green. To plant is to believe in tomorrow, to act in faith that what is small today shall become mighty tomorrow. Yet Marley teaches us that those who hold power unjustly fear the seed. They fear that new ideas, new voices, new movements, if allowed to grow, will break the chains they have forged. And so they strike early, silencing the dream before it finds its root.

History offers us many examples of this tragic truth. Consider Socrates, who planted seeds of questioning in the minds of the youth of Athens. The rulers feared the spread of his thought, and so they gave him the cup of hemlock, killing the seed before it could grow into a forest of free minds. Or remember Harriet Tubman, whose daring acts planted seeds of liberty in the hearts of the enslaved. The powers of her day sought to silence her, to destroy her, to extinguish the spark before it became a blaze. Yet even when some seeds are crushed, others survive, and in surviving, they multiply.

Marley himself lived in a time when the cry for justice in Jamaica and beyond was met with violence and censorship. His song was not only metaphor but reality—voices for equality, leaders of resistance, artists of truth were silenced, exiled, or slain. Yet the seed of his music, though threatened, was never fully destroyed. It grew across the world, inspiring generations to resist oppression and to stand in the light of dignity. The oppressor’s fear proved true: even one surviving seed can fill the earth with a forest.

The lesson for us is profound: guard your seeds, and do not cease planting them. In your life, seeds may be dreams, ideas, acts of kindness, works of justice. There will be forces—fear, doubt, envy, oppression—that will try to crush them before they rise. Yet if you persist, some seeds will take root. And even one rooted seed may become strong enough to shelter many. To stop planting out of fear is to surrender your future; to continue planting, even when threatened, is to defy despair itself.

In practice, this means we must nurture our dreams and the dreams of others. Encourage voices that rise with hope, protect the weak beginnings of movements that seek justice, and resist the urge to trample what is new and fragile. Stand as guardians of growth, refusing to let cynicism or cruelty destroy what may yet bring forth fruit. Remember that every towering tree was once vulnerable, and every revolution was once a whisper.

Thus, children of tomorrow, let Marley’s voice echo in your hearts: Do not let the seed be killed before it grows. For each seed is a promise, a covenant with the future. If one falls, plant another, and another still. For though the oppressor may strike and strike again, they cannot kill the spirit that continues to sow. And when enough seeds grow, no force on earth can silence the forest that rises—mighty, unyielding, and free.