Shape Of Waiting Poem by Sumaya Aijaz Wani

At the banks of a quiet lake,
clenched fists hold their silence.
Tranquility, a beautiful queen,
covers the fury resting beneath.

A voice that touches the bottom,
echoes through waiting ears.
Water refuses to stop,
dripping from trembling fingers,
as if it has forgotten how to rest.

What could this be?
Peace, rage, or simply silence?

What language does it speak?
Where do magnets rest?
Somewhere, they must.

One day-
one minute,
yes, perhaps one second-
the answer will arrive.

But waiting...
such a long wait...
shapes something deep within.
Then, may be-
answer is not the destination,
but the person waiting creates.