Piker Press Banner
April 15, 2024

Blank Sheet

By Andy Zarowny

I'm staring at a blank sheet
Blank screen, actually
It's taunting me to write
Pour onto it my hopes and fears
My ideas and dreams
My heart and soul

So what should I write about?
Mortality? Death?
These are quite real these days
More so now than ever
No longer a distant spectre
Now a date on a calender

Will I be strong?
Will I be brave?
Can I endure?
How will I move on?
Questions without answers
My mind is spinning

Oh, I have my moments
When I think I can see tomorrow
Once bright and hopeful
Now all dark and weary
My smile is gone
The voice cracked and dry

I don't know what to do next?
Bouncing rapidly
From anger and fear
Sometimes acceptance
Like waves against a shore
Beating and changing constantly

I want to believe in a beyond
Where pain and suffering are no more
And gentle rest comes to all
That this was all worthwhile
Not just cosmic pinball
But there be meaning and purpose

It's been a long time coming
Nine years of waiting
Dreading the moment
The slow-motion train wreck
One by one, derailed cars smashed
Mine is next

Moving out of time and space
Falling into an abyss
No sign of bottom
Or references to count on
To steer and navigate
The clock keeps ticking down

Destination unknown
All plans dashed
Chemistry and time now at work
Poisoning the blood
Drop by drop
Till all life ceases

Then the mourning
A dark dawn
Grey and overcast skies
A wet chill in the air
Gusty wind gnaws at the flowers
Beside the tombstones

All gathered for the final farewell
Friends and family
Hypocrisy and compassion
Balance the day
Hopeful and fruitless
It then passes

Beyond that, new life
My next step freed by Death
Nine years of purpose and mission
Gone forever
What roads will open?
Will there be options?

Somehow I don't see that
Choices still clouded
In murky doubts
Unanswered questions
Understanding little
Lessons to learn

A blank sheet of paper
My next life will be
Unwritten, unknown
Frustrating mystery
To be inked in blood
And stained in tears

I know it's for the best
To let go at last
End all the pain
The crippled joints
The broken heart
An end to suffering

So that blank sheet of paper
Keeps staring at me
Void and desolate
An empty page
To be filled by the gods?
Or by my own hand?

Originally appeared 11-06-2004

Article © Andy Zarowny. All rights reserved.
Published on 2012-03-12
0 Reader Comments
Your Comments

The Piker Press moderates all comments.
Click here for the commenting policy.