This (I know)-

I may not know,
The first poem Shakespeare wrote,
Or the last of Sexton,
Before she passed away;
But I do know being,
Gripped by reading,
Wanting to Die;
And learning the news,
Of Anne Sexton’s death,
Didn’t come as a surprise.

I may not know,
The exact number Dickinson penned,
Or the meters she uses in writing,
But I do remember reading,
“I am nobody”,
And I thought to myself,
She must be writing about me,
For the words she conveyed,
Hit all the right nerves.

I may not know styles,
Or decipher much metaphors,
But I do know,
To decipher,
The beatings of my heart;
The rhythm of my soul,
Which says- more poetry.
And this- I do know,
When the pen is in my hand,
It feels like home.

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