I refuse to be a blank page
A page that people - anyone really
Can write on daily
Write what I should - no -let me correct that -
must say, do, go, and be
It's awful
I refuse to be a blank page
To wake up every morning
Waiting. . .
Waiting for someone - anyone really - to give me meaning
To define who I am
Tell me how I should be
How I should carry out this day ...
Existing as the me that I already am
I refuse to be a blank page longing to be written upon
It doesn't matter where to a blank page; any little spot will do
A blank page craves that first drop of ink, that first stroke of a pencil - anything which will make it unique
I will scribe my own tale - be it fiction, romance or action - as I'm compelled to do
I will use my own letters, quotes, musical notes
And line through my mistakes because they are mine to make
I will add my own jot, dot ... or maybe not
Rhythm, beat, it's all my sheet
Stencil pencil, sonnet, verse ... It's mine so there's no need to rehearse
I may choose a different color ink, marker, shade or glue
But know this: the person making these choices will be me - and not you
There may be days that I choose to leave my page ...
[This page intentionally left blank]
Did I lose you?
All you had to do was turn the page; I was right here
I will have blank pages in the multiple pages of my life
That's Okay because, it's my life
and I will choose those pages
That is my point completely
Do I sound bitter?
I am not
So I hope not
Because there are many pages that I share with others
Just like there are roles, functions, responsibilities, and goals that I share because of, and for others
That does not mean that I allow these to take me over
I move in and out of these roles
I turn my pages, I write my verbiage, I dialogue, and I move on
I refuse to be a blank page for others to write upon and dictate for a transcription machine to methodically take over my pages without my realizing what has happened
I need to know - I need to recognize what has taken place before that dictation becomes control
There are times when I may meet someone - a special someone, or maybe just perceived as that special someone
I may loan my pen or pencil to this person I may give them a page in my book and allow them access to write freely
They write, draw, color, sketch -
they may even be poetic, cry, pen a song, or just stroke the page
Touching it . . . gently . . .
But then they turn ...
I never said, 'Turn'
That following page has not yet been touched
It was Blank
It was mine!
And access had not been granted
Why?
Because I refuse to be a blank page for anyone, ever ... anymore
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The end
By Demetra Reid 01/24/05
Demetra Reid Is a native of Chattanooga, Tennessee. Born to Janice Beard and Willie Adams II, she is the middle child to an older brother and younger sister. Demetra is a Registered Nurse. She earned her Bachelor’s degree from the University of Texas, Health Science Center in San Antonio, Texas, and her Master’s of Science in Health Care Administration. Currently, she is the Director at an insurance company and practices as a Certified Case Manager. She has served in this capacity for more than 10 years. Demetra Reid is also the CEO and founding member of http://www.myspace.com/womeneo She lives in Atlanta, Georgia with her only child, Kala, and her two little doggies, Pongo and Precious. Demetra considers writing to be both an outlet and a necessity. She makes reference to the story of the talents in the New Testament: "If the Lord blesses you with a gift, it shouldn't be buried, but rather used for the Glory of Him. Rejecting the written words of another is one thing; burying the words within you for fear of not being accepted, is another. I choose the former with hope that the words will at least be read. Therein lies the dream of any writer.”
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