Channeled Poetry Poem by Edwina Reizer

I see the keys, black and white.
I see my fingers as they write.
I see the ink on a page.
I see my fingers as they age.

I see the books I read at night.
I see them crowded in spaces tight.
I see the room where I create.
I see the clock that says it's late.

I feel the thoughts form in my mind.
I close my eyes and write as if blind.
I can never tell what the words will be
because the writing is not from me.

The words have been channeled to me somehow.
I am kind of used to all of this now.
When it started it was very strange.
I began to think myself deranged.

I've come to accept this gift that came.
But for 4 and1/2 years I've not been the same.
In the beginning I used to question it all,
thinking "why me? " and then came the call.

"Just do it and you'll never look back."
When the poem's done I wonder at this act.
If I were to tell you who's channeling to me
Most of you would think that I'm quite crazy.

But I'm not.