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By S. Vardhan

You are a dandelion in a war zone.

People, blind to the earth,

focus on you feeling like a flower.

You’re too sensitive.

You need to lighten up.

It was just a joke.

Why are you so angry.

Your emotions make you weak.

You need to change.

When one girl on a bus gets gang-raped, you picture that L-shaped rod being shoved inside you

then pulled out, dragging you, inside-out.

You sense that.

You are sensitive.


But you are a dandelion in a WAR ZONE.

A bomb drops nearby and you don’t die, but you feel it.

You’re Capable of feeling it.

Your dandelion roots dig deep into the ground and possess a strength that no one can see And only

you can feel.

From roots that grew through blood and mud

to roots that breathe through dirt.

In a dredged up, soiled dead zone,

You are the splash of colour.

You are beauty in darkness.

You are life.


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