Looking down the aisle of my favorite place,
The library, my special haven, where I always feel at home.
But suddenly, something tilts and my pulse starts to race.
What is happening to the sacred shelves I love to roam?
I was doing some research for the next great American novel.
I was feeling pressured, scared, not up to the challenge.
“Can anyone out there help me?” I cried as I slid to the floor to grovel
Amongst those ancient tomes of wisdom and knowledge.
I knew the world would right itself again
If I just waited patiently for the confusion to end.
Have I stumbled into the dreaded writer’s block?
Will I be able to pull myself out of the depths of despair?
All I have ever wanted to do with my life is lock
Myself in my room and write all that I want to share.
My emotions are visible for all the world to see;
My soul is bared; my words on display.
I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and feel free,
But the spinning hasn’t stopped, and I’ve lost my way.
As if a miracle has finally been granted
I find the minute fact that has been so elusive.
The world is balanced; the aisle no longer slanted.
I just needed one obscure reference to be productive.
When I open my eyes, there is no library…
Only search engines that can be so contrary.
–Deborah A. Bowman
BowmanAuthor and Writer/Editor 