Dandelions

By Sondre, Grade 9

The dead stood tall but the conflict was over, and we were still here, at least some of us. The rain that was once bullets and artillery was now hail in the whipping wind twisting through the ruins. The streets cracked and burnt from the tracks of tanks and their subsequent demise in the hands of defenders of the city, civilians and military alike. It was the war of a bitter old man, but it was the youth who had to fight, and their fathers who lowered their coffins. The war spared no soul and took pity on no family.

All that was left of my home was the chimney, the rest was charred rubble like the scarred landscape. Yet our efforts were not in vain because we were back. Our lands might have been scorched, our stores sacked and homes in ruin, but we, with our spirit of brotherhood remains ever strong. But what good is brotherhood when all else is lost? When children lay in graveyards, and those who were lucky enough to live to carry its weight. When fathers bury their sons and mothers weep. When the elderly’s wisdom and love is lost among the ashes.

Yet a flower sprung up among the chars. A dandelion stood proud in contrast to the sorrow waters of the river beyond. The dandelion stood tall in the tormenting hail, climbing out of the charred soil filled with the souls of fallen heroes. Its roots sprung anew holding tightly on. The leaves yearning for the nourishment of the rising sun, of a new day. And most importantly its flower flourished ready to spread its seeds of resilience and hope.

Weeks later when the souls had been gathered and the dust settled, more dandelions sprung up, trees grew leaves again and the crops sprung yet again. The first dandelion turned white and spread its seeds far across the land where men were slain. Now with the rising sun and blue sky, a strong yellow covered the horizon waving in the calming wind.

Then life returned, song birds marked each morning and the last ones were buried. Towns returned to their jolly laughter and the city to its haste. Kids returned and ran trough the dandelions, whispering their dreams into their seeds before sending them off, and life returned.