The Dandelion’s Roar
Brute power/ Is not superior/ To a flower – May Sarton
There is very little that can undo a dandelion.
Though you pick it, pluck it, pound it, or poison it
it pops up again when you’re not looking.
It roars its mockery at all you do,
letting you (and all your neighbors) know that they will live still,
and live long, when you are still long gone.
When I am dead, buried to fertilize the dirt,
they will grow up smiling around my tombstone.
(Maybe I’ll be buried at sea?)
Because all I have is the power of brute force.
Because all I give to this flower is death.
It has resurrection.