The Dandelion And I


They ask me why I smile at dandelions
Invasive little weeds, roots dug deep,
Pervasive, so difficult to destroy.
Harder still to love.
They ask me why I smile when I see a band of wilted canary flowers,
Once a princess’s diadem.
I smile, I say, because the dandelion and I
Have ever so much in common
Crushed under so many wheels and feet,
Wars waged against us for growing where we will,
Salting the earth we grow in,
To try to prevent us from spreading.
They ask me how I can smile, reduced to an afterthought.
I can smile, I say, simply because I can bloom.
Torn, jagged leaves reaching for the sun,
Grinning golden faces turned to our partners in pride.
We have made a place for ourselves, among the cracked concrete,
Arms thrown wide to catch the summer rays.
There’s a kind of tempered beauty to it, fighting for your place,
Sending down a taproot, braving this frozen ground.
The whole of us tethered firmly
Beaten,
Broken,
Barefaced,
Beautiful.

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