The River Knows Its Way Poem by Sumita Jetley

In a Gurudwara bathed in golden light,
Sat an elder, wrapped in white,
Her silver hair, a crown of grace,
Years etched softly on her face.

Her lips moved with a quiet hum,
Verses of Japji Sahib on her tongue,
A life of faith, both still and deep,
A river flowing, yet at peace.

As a girl, bold and wild was she,
Devouring books beneath a tree,
Granths and Rumi, a world untamed,
Her mother feared, her father claimed:

"A seeker drinks not to be lost,
But to find truth, whatever the cost."
In youth, she laughed, she dared, she dreamed,
Until life arrived and intervened.

A wife, a mother, a daughter-in-law,
Roles she bore with love and awe,
Yet within her heart, a quiet storm,
A longing for a deeper form.

Then one day, a verse took hold:
'You are the ocean in a drop of gold.'
With this spark, her journey began,
To Ajmer, the shrine of the Sufi man.

At the dargah's marble tomb, she knelt,
A gratitude she hadn't felt,
Not rituals, but stories moved her soul,
Of love, surrender, and becoming whole.

She returned, her heart alight,
Her presence now a guiding light,
Opening doors, no judgment passed,
Her wisdom a river, steady and vast.

To her daughter, she once replied,
"A river flows not to abide,
But to meet the sea, its destined goal,
A journey that nourishes every soul."

Now in twilight, her days serene,
Her garden blooms, her heart pristine,
A life of faith, a quiet fire,
A seeker's path, her soul's desire.

When asked her secret, she would say,
"Faith that the river knows its way."
Her wisdom lingers, her story told,
A drop in the ocean, yet the ocean whole.