“Not Today” – Poem

It rained, and the world felt heavy,

Gray clouds pressed down on his chest.

Ayaan sat on the cold, wet bench,

The puddles mirrored his unrest.

He had tried to smile, tried to speak,

Tried to hide the cracks inside.

But every word felt hollow,

Every dream had slowly died.

The phone buzzed—a friend’s concern.

“Are you okay?” it read.

He wanted to answer,

But the words got stuck in his head.

Not okay. Not today.

He whispered it quietly,

As memories crowded like storm clouds,

Failures he couldn’t flee.

Then came a voice, soft and clear,

A little girl, umbrella bright.

“Are you alright?” she asked him,

Her eyes full of gentle light.

He shook his head,

“I’m not okay… not today.”

She smiled, as if she knew,

Her words began to chase the gray.

“Storms always pass,” she said,

“Even if they feel endless now.

You don’t have to be strong today,

You just have to survive somehow.”

He laughed, a trembling sound,

So strange to hear in his own ears.

For the first time, he looked up,

And let himself feel near.

Rain soaked his coat,

Mud stained his shoes,

But he felt a spark inside,

Something soft, something true.

“Sit in the rain,” she whispered,

“Let it wash away your pain.

Tomorrow, the sun will rise,

But today… you can remain.”

He nodded, letting go,

Of pride, of fear, of fight.

One day at a time,

One breath, one step, one night.

Her small yellow umbrella

Danced ahead in the gray,

A beacon of hope,

Lighting a broken way.

He didn’t need answers,

He didn’t need a plan.

The world could wait…

Today, he simply began.

Because storms do not last,

Even the darkest, longest rain.

And light finds its way again,

Through cracks of grief and pain.

Not today, he whispered,

And smiled with trembling grace.

Today, he survived the storm,

And tomorrow, he would find his place.

The rain fell, soft and steady,

And for the first time in weeks,

He let himself be tired,

He let himself feel relief.

Not okay… not today,

But enough to breathe, to see,

To know the sun would rise again,

And he could just… be.

The bench was wet, the rain was cold,

But something warm grew inside his chest.

He’d survive this, he thought,

Not today… but someday, he’d rest.