The Poem Remembers

I think the power of a poem
is the way it brings you back
to what you’ve already lived.

a quiet reminder
that you are alive.

It awakens hidden feelings,
unnoticed moments,
the depth you carry
without knowing.

A poem is an observer.

It watches you-
through the window of your home,
from a park bench as you pass,
from the road as you drive.

It gathers the ordinary
and returns it to you as something sacred-
wrapped in words,
alive with meaning,
filled with feeling.

Life is beautiful.
The poem knows it.

It watches you wake,
turn on the light,
make coffee
as the scent fills the kitchen.

You live it,
but the poem remembers.

It writes of your laughter with friends,
of moments you wished would stay,
when your eyes tried
to hold everything still,
when your presence felt complete.

It writes of you cooking
for someone you love-
the warmth, the taste,
the soft conversation of the day.

It whispers:
I had everything I needed.

And it reminds you

you are alive,
not just existing.

Read a poem.
And gift one to someone.

With love
Fateme