The Dandelion

I held my fist so tight. My hand was clenched upon my dreams. They sat inside a darkened cage. The walls were firmly pressing in. Inside the life was fading.

Then in a moment of sweet grace, I heard the whisper stated, "Let go." My hand obeyed. With an outstretched palm I sat in wonder. I yearned for my hope to stay and for a moment I thought it would. Then the wind came and swept away my treasure.

I watched it leave and fly away. How beautifully it danced upon the breeze. Out, away, far from me, it vanished into the open sky and followed the horizon. I could no longer call it mine.

My heart, it wept. My strength was gone. My outstretched palm slowly fell to my side. It was alone and growing colder.

And when I forgot why I stood, and where my feet were planted, I felt a hand in mine. A gentle pull beckoned me to follow.

With one foggy step, one heavy step, my feet walked with no plan or intention. My only comfort was the man whose shapeless form seemed like a familiar stranger. We traveled alongside the streams of many waters, through forest trees and grassy fields, past brambles and tumble weeds, up a hill, and into a big, green meadow.

There we stood. His steady gaze was upon a field of flowers. The vastness was full and strong, and deep, and wide. It was a sea of yellow.

From a hidden valley some people came. From their lips I heard the laugh, "Look at all these useless weeds." They sneered and gestured, and continued on until I heard them no longer.

In their wake a girl came, traipsing through the tall grass, and slowly she stooped down to pick a bouquet of flowers. Her fingers bent and worked with charm. What they made was magic. Upon her head she placed a crown, and she soon began to dance. Her dress, it flowed. Her face was full of joy and laughter.

Then in a moment the big, bright sun beat down and scorched away all of the delight. The flowers faded, the petals fell, and with them all happiness.

In rolled some clouds and blanketed the sun. Down below, a sea of white replaced the happy yellow.  Upon the empty stems now sat soft, round heads of fluff. The girl looked around and gently picked a stem from the ground. She held it close to her face. Then with her other hand she touched the delicate form upon its head. From her touch blew one hopeful seed. We watched it dance into the sky, up and away forever.

Then the little girl raised the rest to her lips and let out a firm and gentle blow. The seeds departed from their nest and each found its own way, carried down invisible streams.

And then as if on cue, the wind began to blow. With its great and might breath, it made the meadow tremble. The little white seeds rose like a great army. They took to the sky in a swarm. Time stood still in that peaceful storm. The sight filled me with awe and wonder.

Then one by one and all at once, the soldiers began to depart. Those quiet, invisible streams called each one to a foreign place, until all that remained was myself and the girl, all alone.

Where was that man that brought me here? The mysterious one who came and went at his good pleasure. Another whisper came and spoke. This time, it said, "Go."

My feet obeyed and walked upon the path of the steady gaze that had shown me to the flowers. There the girl stood, looking down at the plant in her palm, which had, yet, one remaining seed. She didn't see me standing there. Her focus was on that tiny hopeful puff.

Before another wind could come, she pulled the seed from the plant and wrapped her hand around it. She closed her eyes and raised her fist to touch her beating heart. I don't know the words she spoke inside, or the thoughts that filled her mind, but we both began to cry.

When the tears stopped flowing down, she raised her pained, wet eyes, and I slowly took her hand.

Written in 2018 while processing the innocence so easily swallowed up by trauma, loss, and grief. When an individual is able to stand in their pain and embrace the darkness, tragedy loses its power. Self understanding and acceptance propels us towards healing as we put our hope in the safety we reestablish in our own life. We get to be our own hero as we boldly step into transformation that breathes life into parts of us that once felt dead. I am thankful for the place of faith in my healing journey, that allowed me to have a hope beyond hope in my darkest times while I was yet feeling lost. This piece was written at a time reflecting on the above mentioned things that were very real in my life.