The Sound of Ink

I’m a dandelion seed, an astronaut trying to find home in a world that views me as a weed. Among the thistles of human judgement a free spirit is labeled hostile to the maintenance of status quo. Different is called demon, a light to be extinguished, a disruption  in the religion of forced definition.  ©Susie Clevenger 2024

Grandma’s kitchen didn’t have room for me. There were no warm fuzzies, honeyed memories, or even a space at the table. With her smothering, mothering of my cousins I was an end of the line, barely know your name, grandchild. My arms never reached nor did my lips ask for affection…Grandma didn’t have any urges to spoil an apple outside the walls of her orchard. Times were tough…I didn’t get a choice to be angry or sad…I slipped into the slot life made for me, and was taught my first dandelion lesson of how to bloom in drought. ©Susie Clevenger 2019 Real Toads ~ Weekend Mini Challenge ~ Grandma's Kitchen

Giving up will not be my legacy, I will go to water when I thirst, not expect the river to be my servant. I can bloom in gravel while spoiled roses demand constant care. I’m a dandelion, gypsy sister of the wind.  ©Susie Clevenger 2019 The Sunday Muse #59