The Pause Poem by Sumita Jetley

At dawn, she stirred, but her heart stayed still,
A quiet ache she couldn't will.
The clock ticked on, the morning crept,
Yet in its arms, she softly slept.

Awake at last, the sun aglow,
Time had danced; where did it go?
"Six forty-five, " she murmured low,
And smiled—no need for haste to show.

The park alive with trees in bloom,
A refuge from the city's gloom.
The jogi sat where shadows played,
In silence deep, his spirit stayed.

A saffron shawl, a barefooted grace,
He smiled at her, his weathered face.
"Shanti, " he said, the word took flight,
A blessing soft, a featherlight.

She bowed her head, no words to say,
And let the moment lead her way.
Each step she took, the world stood still,
The ache inside began to fill.

A bench, a tree, a page in hand,
She wrote the words she didn't plan:
"Ham hans diye, ham chup rahe, "
A truth that lingered, soft as clay.

That night, she dreamt of rivers wide,
The jogi stood, the water sighed.
"Why do you carry what must let go? "
He pointed where her light did glow.

"I don't know how, " her voice was bare.
"You do, " he smiled, "It's always there."
And in the dream, the ache gave way,
A quiet peace began to stay.

At dawn, she walked to find him near,
But all she found—a flower clear.
Not red like gulmohar's fiery hue,
But saffron soft, and kissed with dew.

She pressed it close, the moment whole,
A whispered truth filled up her soul:
"Ham hans diye, ham chup rahe, "
In silence, life still finds its way.