a difficult morning

so we turn the page
and here now is space
waiting to be ornamented
as if there was no yesterday
only a blank page
one of an endless number
endless blank pages

what am I saying this morning
what trying not to say

there is this shadow
it approaches so slowly
and then it recedes as if
nothing had ever been there

it takes a cry of pain
only something like that
brings us into the world again
the world we had wandered so far from

what am I doing here
fleshing out these lines
as if there were never any lines
the ink faded
only this blank page
my thoughts at a loss here