Rajeev Verma
I asked for flowers—
petals soft as answered prayers,
colors gentle enough
to quiet my restless days.
I imagined easy beauty,
a garden born without pain,
roots untouched by struggle,
joy without the weight of rain.
But the sky grew heavy instead,
clouds gathered where hope stood still,
and rain arrived unannounced,
cold, relentless, against my will.
I looked up and questioned heaven,
mistaking mercy for delay,
calling the storm a punishment
when it refused to go away.
The rain soaked through my expectations,
washed comfort from the ground,
turned my plans into muddy paths
where no clear answers could be found.
Every drop felt like a lesson
spoken in a language I refused,
for I wanted celebration—
not the work growth always used.
Yet beneath the surface, unseen,
something ancient stirred awake,
seeds I’d buried long ago
began to stretch and break.
The soil softened, learned to breathe,
cracks formed to let life in,
and what I named as suffering
was where becoming did begin.
Rain taught roots how to travel deep,
how to hold when winds arrive,
how to drink even bitterness
and still decide to thrive.
It taught patience to the waiting seed,
humility to the land,
and strength to the fragile stem
learning how to stand.
Days passed, skies slowly cleared,
silence followed the storm,
and in that quiet,
I noticed
the ground felt strangely warm.
Tiny greens broke through the earth,
unapologetic, small,
proof that nothing asked in faith
is ever lost at all.
I finally understood the timing,
the wisdom hidden in delay—
flowers are not given freely,
they are earned the rainy way.
What I wanted was the ending,
but heaven sent the start,
for rain is just the language
used to shape the heart.
Now when storms arrive uninvited,
when answers come as rain,
I don’t curse the darkened sky
or beg for ease again.
I listen for the quiet work
happening out of sight,
trusting every drop is teaching
my roots to choose the light.
I asked for flowers,
and rain answered first—
not to deny my prayer,
but to fulfill it fully.
RAJEEV VERMA 