Bright screen glares at me
While prompt flashes annoyance;
Simulated white page is blank,
Like the edges of my mind.

Words do not come, do not flow;
Sentence making fails me.
Just one word is all I need
To begin the story.

Characters have no voices,
These poor mutes have no life.
They wait like spiders
In the corners of my mind.

No silk to weave a web,
These blank characters wait
For a word to begin
A word to begin their story.

Advice givers say:
“Start at the end”
“Start at the beginning”
“Start with one word”

My champions say:
“you can do it”
“you are a great writer”
“I have faith in you”

With advice givers and champions
Inside my head,
Tuning out all else,
I sit. I stare. I put fingers to keyboard.

The simulated white page remains blank.
The cursor flashing angry now.
I cannot find the word.
I do not have faith.

Then suddenly it appears
Like a flash of lightening
Seen out of the corner of my eye
A word.

Write

So I type the word
It is not the web of a story
It is not the voices of my mutes
It is my voice. My story.