Blanked

Some days when I stare at the next blank page

All I can think of are tired clichés

Or banal expressions of surface clutter

And then I think of all the misery that plagues us

Or the corruption at the top that keeps us infected

Which leads me to a heavy sigh moment

That sends a chill into my fingers

So I stare out the window and it’s raining

There’s no bright ray of sunshine illuminating the garden

Just like there’s no bright spark of love in my heart

Although it keeps sending out reconnaissance missions

While maintaining a cordon of armed sentries

So that blank page with its high-pitched whine starts to be irritating

I make a false start with ill-chosen words

Check Facebook and like a half dozen memes that friends have posted

Share two of them

I try again and still the page remains blank

I deal a hand of solitaire

I lose

I go to the grocery store

Hoping to find inspiration in the produce aisle

But I don’t

Even an endorphin-stirring workout

Produces sweat but little else

The page stays blank

I pray for inspiration

Nothing comes

So I write about blank pages and frustration

Nothing magical or inspired

But enough to spill a few words

Unblanking the challenge of emptiness

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2013

 

 

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