A Blank Page

To sit with a blank page in front of me,
and pen in hand,
stirs a thoughtfulness within,
a deep calm,
a solemn peace.
For when I am engrossed
in composition,
I am in the moment.

When delving into dreams of the future
I must carry the words home,
to this page…
to this moment.

When fading into memories of the past
I must still return
to this page…
to this moment.


as my dogs sleep nearby,
and cars drive by,
and the September rain slides
down my windowpane,
and the light leaves the sky,
I am here.

To sit with a blank page
in front of me,
and pen in hand,
reminds me
I am here.


I used to be an open book, held out for the world to read.

Then people scribbled all over the pages. They wrecked the story I was creating, the art I was living.

So I began to hold my book closely, closed, clutching it to my chest. Protected.

Eventually, I began to feel lonely. What is the point of a story if no one reads it? How interesting is art if no one contributes to it but the artist?

My freshman year of high school, a classmate, a known prankster, took a notebook of mine and scribbled on the first twelve pages; he wasn’t being malicious, just being a freshman boy. So, I started taking my notes on page thirteen.

Over the course of the semester, my dear friend, who is a wonderful artist, drew an picture out of every scribble. They were creative, inspired, and delightful.

I still have that notebook thirty years later. And it still makes me smile when I look through it.

That is how I am going to live my story.

I will no longer hold my book close to me; I will dare to open it up to the world again and revisit the freedom, the innocence, the exuberance of youth.

There will be hurt, that is guaranteed, but I will take each scribble, whether it is malicious or unintential, and see what shapes I can find within it, discover what can created from it, and make my own unique art out of it.

And when I doubt myself, I’ll pull out my old freshman notebook and smile, remembering something inspired and delightful can be created from every scribble.