A Dandelion’s Dream (a bit rough)

There I am, a seed.

No where that I know have I landed,

Or even that I “know”,

At all

I’m just there

Conditions ripe for me to become an “m” in all there is.


Echoing against the quantum ground until

maybe a day when my shell cracks as I thin..

Or prolonged rains to split me as I swell,

Either way, water seeps so slowly in

and I in the sun

germinate like clockwork,

for a chance of success.

As I lay warming,

in her vibrations,

Ancient ‘memories’ stir,

that I’m of valuable worth with a prize of my own.

Reconstituting like sea monkeys, waters softens my seed pod;

mitochondria reawaken,

the hive mind goes on-line

and is focused on making a plant out of me.

Slowly, then

begin I

to unfurl.

Roots first,

Tentatively reaching, 

Guided by alchemical thirst- an insatiate part of being.

Mitochondria now hungry

charged up

Ready to go,

just needed a little water

to get protons to flow.

For my roots though,

needs are simple

– ground,

Air, water, and warmth.

My true glory’s a little later-

bequeathed by emerald chloroplast beads.

Both give oxygen to nature,

and fodder for the bees.

With a bit of bright bit of sun,

my seed cap will grow,

So location, while helpful

as a weed, I’m not choosy,

if you really must know!

Because to a seedling dandelion

at least at first, Without a strong root,

You’re nothing,

but dirt.

I know not where I’ve landed,

my seed I might add,

For a dandelions rarely planted,

Unless used for a salve.

So for now, I’m content,

In my little seed pod self

To warm and to reach

Filtering all that’s to me dealt.

Unfolding inexorably and

hopefully integrity,

my veritable being

stays grounded and centered,

focusing on digging.

Respiring, making channels

called by fertilizers N,P,K

a balanced garden with companions,

totally leads the way.

You see, mitochondria

need full exercise, to be robust, fat, and plenty.

but with fasting or neglected

become slender, even thready.

Unfortunately (?) dandelion,

growing this way and that,

has a long long long tap root

that from an inch, will grow back.

A veritable Prometheus

my resilience abounds

and all because a few mitos

remained deep in the ground.

How many humans you know

Need resilience


who despite their stripped taproot,

Persist, thrive and stay?


My dandelion leaves

Spread in flat rosette,

“Stay flat and shiny”,

I seem to be saying.

“Promote not even one little bit,

or it will be easy to be gotten quit”.

Sso my advice in the meanwhile,

just saying, so you know,

If you want to be missed, but live,

In the garden stay low.

For up you’ll soon sprout,

A tall graceful stalk

Topped with

Your all too soon-to-be,

Radiant top.

Your corolla of bracts

Counting nearly to thirty,

must each one gently loosen

Before you’ll be pretty.

Each bract opens, very Slowly at first,

When they peel back,

then humans know,

That a flower can be forced.

Sun beating down on air –

I’m content and smiling,

perfect in every way.

You don’t know this as a plant,

but your brothers in greener hills

got a better chance at thriving.

Instead, they stuffed themselves silly,

with resources and clay

grew too big

for the roses

who told on them

To the gardener that day.

The the grandest of my “flowers”

In a dandelion way,

Are the ones left the longest

Standing tall in the shade.

And then

flower by flower,

I’m a composite you see,

Each petals lengthens longer,

Collecting water, pollens, and seeds

And then when I’m ready,

A dry wind comes along

and rips my flower head off

Freeing my corona of seed crown.

Sometimes I’m really lucky

when a quiet child nears my being,

Not trampling, screaming, kicking,

she’s quite pensive to me.

In that instant when I see her, and know that she sees me,

A thought goes passing through her

for the wish

That I offer with me.

For the imprint of my beauty,

Flashes deep within her eyes.

An literal Yod colored silver

dances brightly from the sky.

Maybe she wishes for a brother,

or sister,

’tis true,

But perhaps she ‘s sad, not really glad

From living in a veritable stew.

She lifts her eyes as I sail on high

hoping to balloon away like me too.

By Dr. Jen Wyman-Clemons, MD

Dr. Wyman-Clemons treats the body, mind, emotions as well as spiritual wellness using tools described by established teachers and authors and her own experiences as she experiences an ongoing sense of (loving) energetic intrusion (possession) since 2019. She has ~thirty years of clinical experience as an allergy and internal medicine physician (ABAI, ABIM) has completed requirements to practice as a yoga teacher, USUI Reiki Master, and astrologer.

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