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.

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