Gifts Of Heaven
by Rajaa Qadri
When raindrops knock at my glass window and gentle zephyr touches my cheeks, I look up at the sky to admire the heavenly weather. But, I realized, it was just a matter of moments that this light wind escalates into a never-ending cruel storm, knocking an eerie, mystic feeling into the very atmosphere. The tender tree oscillates, flailing wildly in the storm. The light clouds, which once floated in the gentle breeze, now thunder and roar as if grumbling about the angry weather. When this bolt of the murky, weeping firmament, it feels like heaven has given way. The rumble of the thunder even makes the window-pane rattle and I suddenly dread that this breath would be my last. I don’t know what but the black sky; growing blacker by every passing minute; invites me to think about my end. Death.
What an eerie feeling it brings; loneliness, silence, stillness, darkness. Yet, after what seems like eons to me, I throw a glance upwards to see what the weather has brought and notice a beam of light. Emerging on the horizon and the storm gradually abating the fear, the fright begins to fade away and the sun starts shining down on me, inviting me to see for myself what the cruel weather has yielded. A blooming new bud of Rose—Sign of Life.