Blank Page

Dots of ink, that’s all that’s there

‘Cause words just fail to conjure themselves.

Though meandering thoughts haunt all night long,

I stare at a paper that is still so blank.

Nomad winds threaten to blow

The dear held page that has nothing at all.

Still holding a pen I stare at the moonless sky,

To calm the squall that torments my feeble mind.

If only my withheld tears could etch,

All the words, my thoughts - on that page.

I could have a peaceful dream,

And a blank page wouldn’t be gaping at me.

A teary gaze at lines that call to me,

Pick the pen a hundred times, still;

The tempest rattles on the doors of my brain,

And I stare at the paper that is still so blank.

-Vaisakhi Mishra