Unwritten Poem by Judy Jones

My collection of books
Sits haunting on the shelf
Some have collected so much dust
that you can not read the name anymore
Others,
Tearing at the seams
Unable to keep my hands off them
and their vivid memories

I don't want them anymore
But they seem tethered to me
I try to throw them out
But by morning
they re-appear
On my shelf
In the same tormenting state I can not escape

When is it my turn?
To write my own books
This chapter has dragged on
for too many years
It's torturous to re-read these same words
Over and over again

But then a light appears from under the door
A glimpse of a new page
Am I brave and fearless today?
Yes
I believe so
I open the door
And pick up the page
Only to find it is blank

(10/10/10)