An idea came to my mind, <br />I went inside to find <br />A paper and a pen <br />And sat down in my den. <br /> <br />The pen moved on <br />I don’t know when my maids were gone. <br />After I had poured out my heart, <br />I looked at the paper with a start. <br /> <br />It was tear stained <br />Outside it had started to rain. <br />Some unseen power had guided my hand. <br />I had just begun with a thin strand. <br /> <br />I walked around perplexed, <br />I hadn’t known this is how I felt. <br />How foolish to think I had written it. <br />God, you only know how I feel in the pit <br />of my belly. The sense of me, I am the doer, <br />evaporated, as I read the poem over and over <br />again. I am not as articulate and lucid. <br />I can’t string the words in such a fluid <br />way. Thank God, for helping me know how I feel, <br />And showing me a way to deal <br />with pain, sorrow and grief. <br />I don’t have to worry as long as I believe <br />I am you, you are me. <br />Though the naked eye can not see.<br /><br />Mamta Agarwal<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/realization-21/
