You see a dandelion
And you yank it out from where it belongs.
Simply, because it looks ‘pretty’
and because you’re free willed.
And like a small child,
You are thrilled when you blow through it.
And even more, when the wind blows it for you.
You find joy at the scattered pieces
Dancing in the spring air…
here’s why: because it looks pretty.
And what do you do
With the remaining stem?
Oh, what possibly could you do
Apart from tossing it aside?
Yet…you just hold it there.
Watching, waiting for the
Breeze to take it away.
Perhaps, reunite it with its missing
Pieces.
But it is you who chose to expose it.
You, who stripped it away from its fragile root;
Who left it vulnerable, captivated in your hand.
I am that dandelion.
And as you stand, holding what remains,
Your grip loosens
And you let go.
But no, you could not have just left it there
And moved on with your day;
You certainly couldn’t.
You then justify for yourself with the reflection
of cherry blossoms in your eyes,
“It looks prettier this way.”
you continue walking along your path
Scavenging for dandelions like me.
Whilst you disregard the much prettier flowers
Hanging above you,
in the cherry blossom tree.
But it is you who planted the first seed.
You, who watered it and observed it morning and night;
Who watched over it day by day as it grew.
But then, you turned your attention
To what blossomed from nature:
Buttercups, daisies and dandelions.
And from the start you knew,
I am that dandelion.
And the spring breeze
Is the other side of you.
***
text // rania ahmed
art // latifah torki