Dandelion seeds spread,
As you blow with all your might.
Make a wish.
And watch it grow.
I used to wish to be the drum major
Turning to salute an audience
Then lead a corps
Of instruments through a beautiful performance.
I used to wish to pass chem exams,
My roommate and I leaned over our beds
To say a prayer, or hope for a wish
That we would survive.
Now I wish for wellness,
To breathe in a big open breath,
And exhale with relief.
Everything is going to be okay.
And as I hold a dandelion in my hands
I look at the beaming white seeds,
Glowing in the sunlight –
And I blow
Not an ounce of air remains in my lungs,
As seeds gently waiver to the ground.
Where my wish will land
And plant itself.
And my wish will grow,
To be a bright yellow dandelion
And sometimes it may seem like a weed.
Because it is hard to obtain.
But my wish is not a weed.
I love my dandelion wish
To be well,
Because I know it will come true.
Photography by Patrick Olivero