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The Peccant Dandelion

By Cultures Of Dignity | May 20, 2019

I am Siane François, a 17 year old girl in the Phoenix Valley. I’m a biracial member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, the daughter of two immigrants, and I enroll myself in all AP and honors classes. As a race, humans are better together, every race, gender, sexuality, ability, religion, economic background, and so on. It is time to realize we have so much more in common than what separates us, and that we begin to work together to allow everyone to enjoy the best opportunities in life. I’ve made it my personal mission to pursue the continuum of equity and I hope that this poem will resonate with you and show you why.

The Peccant Dandelion

By Siane François


I live in a field of flowers, nestled between a rose and a lily

I’m the small dandelion who know she’s quite pretty

The rose is so nice and the lily is so fun

And we all dance together in our pursuit of the sun

And we all live happily, right here in our field

Growing flowers and seeds to one day yield

We live equally and we all try to grow

For our sunny days are all that we know

And when the sun sets and the stars grow bright

We laugh and make memories all through the night

Life is sweet for a new sapling like me

And I’m just so grateful to live with all my friends so carefree

But this night is different, although I don’t know it

Someone has come to disrupt our happy moments

And as I ponder the stars in the sky

For last innocent night in my young life

I know my worth, and I know that I am strong

For I managed to grow about the big, beautiful flowers that I am among

We are all similar, though different in looks

We all are here to bring about beauty in our nooks

We each had to grow, and for each it was hard

And each suffered varying trials that worked to mar

But alas, for one last, still night

We are flowers pondering the stars that shine bright

As the sun rises, a red light stretches over the field

And we become aware of a man that the night concealed

We bloom extra big to show off the fruits of our labor

And wait excitedly for the reaction of our new neighbor

The man stretches, rising slowly; we all hold our breath, blooming wholly

The man strides along our rows of flowers

His gaze seems to stretch upon us for hours

Then finally he speaks, surveying us and our reeds

“This field is beautiful, except for the weeds”

A weed! What’s a weed?! Why did he say it so mean?

Does he mean that some of us are worth less than we seem?

No, that cannot be right, we are all worth the same

And then the wretched man bends down and begins to maim

He pulls at the shepherd’s purse, tears at the crabgrass

And all flowers scream as he exacts death on the mass

He rips out the lamb quarters and snatches a morning glory

Then he plucks a dandelion and I know that he is coming for me

This is so wrong, it hurts so much

He is tearing through us as though it’s a grudge

He passes the lilies, the peonies, the roses

And continues to kill us, however he supposes

He wrenches some purslane and I don’t understand

Why he continues to rip precious life from the land

What is a weed and why is it bad

Why am I targeted for the petals I have

When he pulls the dandelions, he never blows their seeds

So he kills all that life and won’t appreciate our breed

The man trudges closer, and I’m scared that I might

Die At the hand of some man who has come to judge my plight

This man does not know all that I have done to live

He has no right to take away what I give

My bright yellow petals are my contribution

Why does he seem to deem them pollution

I worked hard to grow, and that is my right

Why is it that the roses do not share the same plight

All the flowers cry and scream at murders being committed at our scene

He grows ever closer, and my fear starts to evolve

Into anger at the man for his destruction resolve

We all have the same right to our lives

We all worked hard for our right to survive

Why did this man get to exert his opinion

Upon us nice plants living in our dominion

Who was going to determine my life for me

Who could deny me the right of my liberty

This soil is mine and my roots are my own

The leaves and seeds I have grown are my own

I have made my mark here upon this dirt spot in the land

And I was going to bloom bright right here where I can

No one can take my right to live

And no one can give to this world what I give

I am unique, just one dandelion

But I have brought wonder like stars in Orion

But when I am plucked from the ground as a weed

And someone blows upon me and my seeds

And when the wind carries those seeds through the trees

I’ll be left knowing I have done right by my breed

And as I fall from the hands of a wisher, a stem of no use

And as my life drains for my grip upon it grows loose

I think of each seed carried in the breeze

And I can smile knowing they’ve been given the keys

To start a new life somewhere in the land

And bring about beauty and happiness wherever they land

For their worth, like my own, is for no one to determine

And their beauty will flourish, despite some developer’s chagrin

For who we are and what we give, is the reason we demand the right to live

We bring about beauty, unique and chaste, and that gift is not something we plan to waste

And so we will bloom wherever we can, and we’ll fight to rise up in the dirt of the land

For our beauty and right to live is our own, and no one can take it, wherever we’ve grown

In a field of flowers, each one works to bloom, and each has a struggle, trials that bring about gloom

But each plant grows right here in our field, and each has a story of how it got here

Some are big, some are small, some smell quite nice, and some not at all

But our field of flowers is a beauty to behold for all of the life it chooses to hold

And when someone comes to judge all our work, we’ll worry not, standing tall in the earth

Their voice doesn’t matter, their words have no effect

For whose choice is it that a rose has more worth than the small little dandelion here in the dirt


If you have any questions of thoughts for Siane, email

The Peccant Dandelion