Drifting Poem by Sumita Jetley

The city hums, a neon tide,
Lights flicker, strangers collide.
Footsteps rush, the world won't wait,
Yet she drifts, resigned to fate.

By the window, still, she stays,
Coffee cold, mind in a haze.
Not lost—no, that would be sweet,
She floats where silence and echoes meet.

She sees the cracks in spoken lies,
The fleeting truths in guarded eyes.
Yet words unsaid weigh twice as much,
Like whispered winds she cannot clutch.

No blame, no chains, no bitter ties,
She lets the river claim the skies.
A Sufi heart, a restless soul,
But even oceans need control.

She tells herself, let go, be light,
Yet feels the drift steal warmth from night.
Not sinking—no, not yet,
But tethered to a quiet threat.

The world is loud, its edges frayed,
It sharpens voices, turns them blade.
But she is air, she is mist,
Too soft to cut, too strong to twist.

So let it drift, let it slide,
She will not chase, she will not hide.
For even tides, wild and free,
Return someday to kiss the sea.