Pain

a poem by Jyoti Arya

Standing in unending row,
When pain kept shifting its position,
And magnitude,
Or sometime kept clinging for days at the,
Same old spot,
Looking helplessly at me,
Through its concealed eyes with a deep wound spread
Deep enough to cut my gaze,
Deep enough to keep me amazed.
Each time it stuck me I am reminded,
“It is still there”
And I have to rush to the lonely corridors,
Which are packed full; till infinity.
I know there are millions suffering from pain,
But for me my pain is important-
“As it is mine!”