Essays

the dance of dandelions

i formed myself from the scorched earth you left behind

from the ashes wet with tears, i rose

a dandelion in the cracks of pavement

i reached up to claim the sun

and rooted myself to a new story.

my body is my own, i whispered to the moon

as my petals closed around my heart,

to be plucked out is such violence,

perhaps they will overlook a sleeping dandelion.

my body is my own, i whispered in the darkness

as i shaped my soul from the ashes, as embers flew around my face

my body is my own, i spoke courage into my once beating heart

my body is my own, my body is my own, my body is my own,

each syllable forcing life into my broken body.

each syllable flying as wishes from a dying dandelion.

strength germinates in silence

til we awake to blooms of courage

seeds dropping from our memories

waiting for the land to awaken with the spring.

my body is my own, i whisper to the earth that built my body

and a thousand yellow dandelions waved back to me.

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