The Hour That Waits Poem by ashok jadhav

The gavel rests, a promise unfulfilled,
Its echo fading in the hollow halls.
Complaint and witness circle, year by year,
While those who suffer bear the quiet cost.
Time drifts like water over broken stone,
And what was wrong remains unmade, unseen.
Children grow, and parents leave the earth,
Before the law delivers what it swore.
The weight of patience bends the spirit low,
And hope becomes a fragile, trembling thing.
Each delayed verdict twists the measure of life,
And leaves a shadow no apology can reach.
Yet still some wait, believing it will come,
Though justice walks a path both slow and blind.
The world demands its reckoning in time,
But time itself conspires to leave us wanting.