Dand(e)lion
On my desk is a yellow dandelion,
Picked from the crescent fields of the farm lands
After the storm passed;
It was wrapped in used newspapers
That enumerated the relief experiences
Of people working with people
Against the joking hands of nature;
It was sold in a market,
With a kilo of pork and a tin of sardines
It stayed for a day
Until a little boy, tired from lifting crates of apples,
Run away with it –
His trembling hands wrote on a card,
Torn from a picture book from the library –
All the while, miming how everyone else
Bragged expensive gifts,
A greeting for his teacher on her special day,
So on my mantle, his gift displayed
It will wither some day, perhaps,
To no fault of its own, be crushed under a heel,
Be swept against the rug, thrown under a bus,
Get picked up the military and thrown to detainment camps,
Its stem may freeze one day at the side walks, at dusty alleys,
Contemplating marijuana and ecstacy,
Or the vase might break, hit by a stray cat
Or a flying baseball, maybe;
Today, dandelion, today you are a flower
Cut from its stem, dead,
But through life you will grow again.
———————
CARD DRAWN:
SIX OF CUPS
THIS IS THE TAROT CHALLENGE, a 78-day writing challenge where everyday I pick out a random card from my tarot deck and write something about, against, inspired by, based on the card by the day’s end. The works can range from poetry to fiction to drama. When the card is from the major arcana, the title of the work should be the card name. When the card is from the minor arcana, the title can be different but the card drawn should be revealed at the end.
