The Dandelion
Like a flower blossoming, so too does resistance grow in grassroots movements. Yet only in solidarity can we manage to succeed in our goals. This poem is about the sole rebels, the outspoken defiance that we often observe but never join. I love the use of a dandelion as a metaphor for the other and unwanted, because it truly is a beautiful flower that is only colored by our perception of it. But because of its reputation as bad, the dandelion is always destroyed, just like progressivism is quashed by those who misunderstand it. But I think there is hope in recognizing that together we can grow. If we choose to let the dandelions cultivate, foster the hope and light they bring, then together we can slowly turn the yard from flat lawn to wildflowers.
Poetry
Madeline Gates Fourth Year, English Major
The Dandelion
Laying to the side,
Lawn perfect and pristine,
Sun beating down like fire
While the tears of fallen grass smells
Sweet and pleasant on young palette.
Across the yard, I spot
A green stalk making
Monuments from monotony
Proud and tall, with yellow head
Barren in defiance and defense.
"A weed," they say,
"Naught but a weed."
They talk of usefulness
How we can constrict her,
Our bitter need to control all.
And yet she stands
The place her mother
Had held her vigil before
She too had been crushed,
Blades and feet and indifference.
She represents
Perfection in life
Self-discovery, selfishness
Never bowing her head
Like sunflowers we love so dear.
I know in a week
She'll be destroyed
As all things deviant,
All things that protest
Authority must be damned.
But for a moment
Sitting on the grass
I can feel her roots
Reaching out to me
Imploring me
Join her fervent protest
Defy that which oppresses
Frolic with her kin in
The meadows of rebellion
Become one with earth and sky
I can hear the weedwhacker already.
I cannot help but head inside.