An idea came to my mind,
I went inside to find
A paper and a pen
And sat down in my den.

The pen moved on
I don’t know when my maids were gone.
After I had poured out my heart,
I looked at the paper with a start.

It was tear stained
Outside it had started to rain.
Some unseen power had guided my hand.
I had just begun with a thin strand.

I walked around perplexed,
I hadn’t known this is how I felt.
How foolish to think I had written it.
God, you only know how I feel in the pit
of my belly. The sense of me, I am the doer,
evaporated, as I read the poem over and over
again. I am not as articulate and lucid.
I can’t string the words in such a fluid
way. Thank God, for helping me know how I feel,
And showing me a way to deal
with pain, sorrow and grief.
I don’t have to worry as long as I believe
I am you, you are me.
Though the naked eye can not see.

Mamta Agarwal

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/realization-21/