Someone stole my pomegranate flowers.
I had been counting days, one day at a time, for the tree to be blessed with flowers. That day arrived when the buds appeared on the branches as tiny orange teardrops. Slowly growing bigger and opening up like little butterflies with delicate wings. But the tree discarded them.They were not strong enough to turn into fruits.
The wait began again, a few months' time, slowly, one day at a time, weeks , months and the orange beads of joy appeared again. This time higher in number.They opened their wings again and yet again the tree discarded them.
The whole year had gone by, never ever had this tree been bare for so long. Miracles of the nature took charge, seasons changed and the tree was once again ready for blooming. Finally three flowers held tight to the stems, the stems bowing gently in their honour, supporting the growing weight. My spirits soared high, the wait was over. The flowers started swelling up like a pregnant belly, the delicate petals were starting to be engulfed and protected by a hard shell, half flower half fruit. I was going to be a proud caretaker.
It was a beautiful morning, I went to water the plants and there it was! A bare tree, as if it had suffered a miscarriage. I looked for the flowers on the ground as they never fall far from it, but they were nowhere to be found, it seems someone had plucked them.
How inconsequential the act must have been for that person? Just a fancy for orange flowers!
The same thing is true in life too, someone's hard-work, life's achievements, joys, pain rendered inconsequential in seconds by the inconsiderate action of another person.
I had been counting days, one day at a time, for the tree to be blessed with flowers. That day arrived when the buds appeared on the branches as tiny orange teardrops. Slowly growing bigger and opening up like little butterflies with delicate wings. But the tree discarded them.They were not strong enough to turn into fruits.
The wait began again, a few months' time, slowly, one day at a time, weeks , months and the orange beads of joy appeared again. This time higher in number.They opened their wings again and yet again the tree discarded them.
The whole year had gone by, never ever had this tree been bare for so long. Miracles of the nature took charge, seasons changed and the tree was once again ready for blooming. Finally three flowers held tight to the stems, the stems bowing gently in their honour, supporting the growing weight. My spirits soared high, the wait was over. The flowers started swelling up like a pregnant belly, the delicate petals were starting to be engulfed and protected by a hard shell, half flower half fruit. I was going to be a proud caretaker.
It was a beautiful morning, I went to water the plants and there it was! A bare tree, as if it had suffered a miscarriage. I looked for the flowers on the ground as they never fall far from it, but they were nowhere to be found, it seems someone had plucked them.
How inconsequential the act must have been for that person? Just a fancy for orange flowers!
The same thing is true in life too, someone's hard-work, life's achievements, joys, pain rendered inconsequential in seconds by the inconsiderate action of another person.
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