Swirls Of Freedom! Poem by Sumita Jetley

In a village where dawn breaks with a quiet sigh,
Sara lived, where the earth meets the sprawling sky.
Clothed in hues of the serene morning dew,
Her days danced in rhythms everyone knew.

Her salwar kameez, blues and gentle greens,
Mingled with the sunrise, in tranquil scenes.
A daily mirror of whispered prayers and spice,
In a town where tradition carved life's precise slice.

Yet, beneath this façade of conformity's lace,
Sara's heart harbored a mystical embrace.
In pre-dawn whispers, where shadows blend and twirl,
She read of Rumi, where love's essence would unfurl.

Her rebellion was silent, a dance of the devout,
In Sufi poems, where love was never in drought.
While the village slept under the veil of the night,
Her soul swirled in the divine's ecstatic light.

As the day unfurled with the sun's warm crest,
Sara's actions were simple, her compliance confessed.
Helping her mother, a nod to the neighbor next door,
Yet her heart yearned to whirl, to soar.

One twilight, under skies painted in divine art,
Her mother glimpsed the yearning in Sara's heart.
By the terrace, amid marigold and jasmine's bloom,
She questioned her daughter, dispelling the gloom.

"What fills your heart, child, beneath this endless sky? "
"A world beyond, " Sara's voice was a tender sigh.
"Where every end is merely a new start,
Where Sufis swirl, and love is art."

Her mother folded a saree, her wisdom silently told,
"Every moment's an ending, its story bold.
There are no true ends in a Sufi's dance,
Just endless beginnings in the divine's glance."

With those words, Sara's life found a new theme,
Tradition and mysticism, a woven dream.
Her daily swirls, a blend of the old and new,
Each step a dance, in morning's fresh dew.

In her study, among whispers of green,
She wrote of life's seams unseen.
With a pencil poised in thought's embrace,
Sara penned her soul's quiet grace.

Her narrative was simple, a life intertwined,
With norms and the mystical, uniquely combined.
For in the dance of the Sufi, with the divine so near,
Every swirl in silence, every step so clear.

Why are some abstract, in thoughts and dreams?
They see beyond the world's seams.
In colors and shadows, in the dance of the night,
They find beauty where others might not sight.

Their world is a canvas, undefined,
Where thoughts swirl, and dreams are designed.
An abstract heart is a mystery,
In its depths, a hidden history.

So swirl, dear Sara, in your dance of light and shade,
In the simple and mystical, beautifully laid.
For every moment's start is another's end,
In the Sufi's heart, where all blends and bends.