A girl with dandelions
interwoven through her braids
beams a smile untouched
by the bitter decay of age. Wisdom
is a stage we all crave
yet when she closes her eyes,
the sunlight never tasted so sweet
on her beestung lips.
A gentle breeze
carrying the teasing spray
of brine and the nostalgic
scent of hearth and home,
tickles her nose,
gently urging a smile to spread
across her lips.
“When the sun retires to bed,
his flickering flames
lay across the bed of stars,
his eyes will slowly shut
as his lover, the moon’s beaming smile
lulls him to peaceful slumber…”
the girl turns and tells the story
to a springy weed,
its ugly leaves dancing
in the answering wind.
a sudden clap of thunder
and the sky is crowded,
a traffic of dark grey clouds
demanding the sky. A droplet of rain
plummets from the heavens,
a single tear that runs across
the girls’ cheek. Joined by many,
the weight of fate falls from the sky,
one by one,
until the girl is no longer.
the dandelions are gone,
and the weed opens its mouth,
a gaping maw that suckles at her despair.
Mecca-Amirah Jackson 