Messages From You

By the phone
it waits –
silent,
anxious,
a blank pad of paper waiting
to be filled, waiting
for the ring to interrupt its sober thoughts,
but every time

the phone finally rings,
and the person who answers it
needs to write something down

there’s never a pen,

just some phantom promise
that one day
the pad will be filled;
it won’t feel so empty.

So it waits,
its blank pages extending outwards
like arms longing
for an embrace,
unable to move,
unable to sigh,

unable to do anything
but be what it is – a stack of

empty pages,
an infinity of unwritten messages,
a symbol of all those people
who are afraid
to call.

And so you see, I’m not

alone.

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~