THE BLANK PAGE
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A blank page before me It stares at me. See. I stare back I see the black Words. Starting to appear Bold words. That don’t have any Fear Yes. They’re all mine Underlined. And in between these lines It’s all fine The page comforts me The page knows me Unfolds around my entirety Fills itself with my story Hears me. Fearlessly. It teaches me the rules to my game Absorbs. My pain. My story thrives it comes alive. But within the margins I still strive I still struggle In this confusing puzzle Of thoughts and reality How they lack in form and clarity But the page is still here And I know it hears. How does it feel dear page? How does it feel to hear my illusion, tear stains of rage? the torn corners the shapeless borders my innermost feelings see the depth of my healing My yearning in silence the cursive violence? Dear page, does it make you feel sad? Or does it make you feel glad? To silently witness Without prejudice Without judgment All the torment You allow me to release In a world without ease I own you and you listen This could be real or fiction You don’t mind, Whichever words Stifled voices unheard Half-said words all blurred And sometimes there is vision and insight and sometimes maybe I fright, But I allow you to wonder in a strange delight and you observe this fight. A blank page before me. Opportunity. To own my right to write. |