It was a light in the darkness that we hid in.
A shimmering star in the dust we choked on.
My mother embraced my shoulders, whispering prayer, feeding our hearts.
Numbing the fear.
The bombs exploded in the distance, shaking the ground.
Destroying the fields on which I used to lay upon.
So soft, these beautiful flowers I recalled. They swayed in the wind with gentleness.
It was a sight I missed most in this time of darkness.
My father was looking at me… In his eyes I saw fear, never has my father been afraid, of anyone, of anything.
His eyes closed and out of the pocket of his brown jacket, he pulled out a dandelion.
Completely intact…
He handed it to me, smiling lightly.
I carefully took it.
A bomb dropped near. Everyone screamed, my mother’s arms tightening.
I could only stare at the flower.
Another drop, I could barely breathe.
I needed to protect it, my fists enclosed it, hugging it to my chest.
My paradise, my light.
From my ashes, this flower would spring, and there I would remain, forever in the gentle wind.