Wish

When the puffy dandelion is at its ripest, I pluck it from the grass.
But I rarely make a wish, because
what if my wish was wrong?
There are so many things I wish, that even if each fleck of white could represent one
it wouldn't be enough. Although I haven't counted.
I wish for myself, for my relationships, all my own selfish matters---
grades, strength, performance in this that
and the other thing.
I wish for the world in its entirety, all those black and white and female and male
everything in between that have suffered the injust.
I wish for the wars to fall to closure and for old white men to stop ruling the world.
I can't control these matters, no.
But I can wave around flags and drive some posters into the dirt of my front yard and
educate myself with the so-called boring documentaries and even educate
others.
I can't say a few words and convince the world to be perfectly peaceful, but I can
do little things, and many others can do little things, and then
we'll be doing big things, real world-changing things, together.
Also, I can have hope.
Little things and hope.
That's what really matters.