Ode to the Dandelion

For All Who Are Oppressed

By Biho Hong

They say, “You don’t belong here.

You’re growing in the wrong place!"

Yet you had no choice where you were born.

Perhaps a gust of wind carried you,

Dropping you on someone’s lush, green lawn. 

And so, they pull you up by the roots—with anger.

Cursing you for stealing their precious weekend time,

Though you have done no wrong.

It’s an unfathomable mystery to you:

Why are chrysanthemums,

Especially the rare varieties,

Treated with such reverence and care?

While you—a simple dandelion—

Experience such scorn?

They spend money on chrysanthemums,

Displaying them like precious objects in their halls

And replenishing them when the flowers fade.

But you, because you’re free, are considered worthless.

It’s like how people reject God’s grace.

How dare they call you a wildflower, a weed,

And try to deny your right to exist?

You pay no attention to their harsh words,

Their jeers and laughter.

Instead, as long as you live,

You will strive to bloom beautifully.

Because you know your mission in life—

Given to you by your loving Creator.

Maybe tomorrow, or even in the next hour,

You will be uprooted and cast away.

But you don’t live in fear, anticipating that cruel fate,

Nor do you lament your “wrongful” place of birth.

For you know that

The true measure of life is not its length,

But how well it is lived.

Though people may despise you,

You have faith that

In the heart of the Creator,

Your place is assured.

If it were not so, He wouldn’t scatter your kind

Across every hill and every field.

People may try to erase you,

But you stand firm—

Secure in the knowledge that

You have many brothers, sisters, and descendants,

Who will continue to carry the torch of life.

You are not like the flowers in the greenhouse,

Hiding from wind and rain.

Instead, you have grown hardy and resilient,

Requiring no special care from the world.

The Creator has given you a tenacious life force,

Able to survive in harsh conditions,

Standing strong through the storms.

Dandelion, I salute and honor you.

For through you, the Creator shows me:

No matter who we are or the color of our skin,

No matter how insignificant we may seem in others’ eyes,

The Creator chose to sacrifice His only Son

To die for each of us on the cross.

God’s love affirms the value of our existence,

So we are not swayed by others’ praise or condemnation.

Lord, what are we that You care for us?

May we cherish every moment You give,

Living each day fully for You,

Knowing that even the wildflowers,

The small, scattered blooms and grasses,

Offer their sweet fragrance to You.

I pray that You teach us not to waste our time

Struggling and complaining about our worth.

Instead, let us offer ourselves as living sacrifices,

Scattered and blooming wherever we are—

For Your glory.

(Note: Consider the Lilies! Do not Worry! )

Matt 6: 25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?
28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?