White Spaces

A Poem by Lisa Williams

I think about my future and
I can’t see beyond
the blocks, the stops, the
white spaces.
There are too many if statements.
There are so many paths to choose from.
The possibilities are
endless.
Endless even as they die in hoards
each second,
cut down like grass to be replaced by
new possibilities
infinite.

I can’t quite put my longing for them into words,
the yearning for them all,
to take each route,
fulfill each if qualification,
be the me in all the alternate realities.
I feel it even now as I sit here,
pen in hand,
sun in hair,
the pull of so many different
lives.
It’s equilibrium.
I’m stationary in my conflicting urges
in an endless loop.
Enclosed in the present by
blocks
stops
white spaces.