The poem, “The Dandelion’s Brief Lament”, is about a tiny dandelion in a landfill. While the flowers are a part of nature itself, everyday they are trampled upon by unsuspecting humans, leaving only their withered petals for society to see. As a result, people toss them away, no longer remembering the beauty they once had. Meanwhile the trash and wires themselves are thought to be just interruptions in nature, unwelcome pestilence in an already ruined garden. Thus, the dandelion sympathizes with the creatures in that landfill, and becomes an “angel” for them, offering redemption and forgiveness for their existences, all the while empathizing with their grief.
My father used to take my brothers and me to play in that landfill. There was a lot of trash there, as well as a lot of withered, broken flowers. I only ever saw one dandelion there though. I tried picking it up once, but my dad said to leave it there.
The Dandelion’s Brief Lament
Solemn sanctity fills the air,
with nary a creature nearby.
There was a garden, once fine and fair,
now marred by myriads of lies.
Tattered and torn the flowers cry
upon their metallic thorns.
They sit in their hearths, endeavoring to hide
from the hurt, ridicule, and scorn.
Endless wires lie on the ground
within a corrupted light.
They endure the taunts and the insulting sounds,
while dust blinded their eyes.
Trash and trash upon piles of trash
burdened the fields so.
They longed for the day they’d be reduced to ash
with convictions only they could know.
But within those shadows,
within that garden,
innocence caressed a white, sweetly softened.
For deep within that sinful garden,
stood an angel, whose happiness was spoken.
Sullied, soiled, and coated with thistles,
the angel waited for the morrow.
It gazed at the garden, ignoring the bristles,
and it smiled, untouched by the sorrow.
It smiled at the buds,
in the midst of the lie.
It embraced them with love,
their warmths it cannot deny.
It smiled at the wires
with admiration upon its face.
It embraced their desires,
with praises wrapped in lace.
It smiled at the trash,
and ignored the condemnations.
Hearing neither insult nor backlash,
it forsook the accusations.
And as the angel stood,
the gardens now fine, now fair,
It disappeared eternally,
forever from reality,
blown away by its dreadful lying.
By Robin Goodfellow