Writer’s Block

(with input from Indira Rajagopal)

There was a time
when I didn’t have words
and there will be a time again
when they are gone.

But now, I sit,
reveling in their presence –
grand, gorgeous words
spilling over their pages,
pooling deep around me,
oozing slowly
out the cracks
of doors and windows,
escaping confinement until,
like water behind a dam
overpowered by rain,
they burst through,
a flood of language
until the reservoir runs dry.

Helpless,
I face the page again