Writing with the Wrong Hand

The left hand takes the pen as if it has a plan.

Its fingers close firmly around the black pen,

   ready to respond

and to release what will flow

from the heart.

 

And so far?

Nothing.

So far the fear still stands in the way.

So far the words—no, the feelings—

are blocked

like the mouth of a cave stopped by the boulder

    of "what if?"

 

Write the words as far as you can:

I'm not afraid to, to be . . .

Did the fingers take over to finish the thought?

Not yet. Not this time.

Again:

I'm not afraid to, to . . .

not afraid to be naked before all.

Not afraid to be revealed.

But this is only lip service,

    for nothing further arrives.

 

And what do I learn from this?

I think it's clear that even the beloved,

often-admired left hand,

child of the heart and the right brain—

even this paragon of all the honest virtues—

can lie through her teeth.

 

 

Copyright © 2020 Ann Tudor
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00JI4758O

ListenandLive: http://www.listenandlive.com/advanced_search_result.php?keywords=An+Tudor&search_in_description=1&osCsid=0710648c0eea428843aca84d0c04837d&x=0&y=04837d&x=0&y=0

Audible.Ca: go to https://www.audible.ca and search for Ann Tudor

Audible.Com: go to https://www.audible.com and search for Ann Tudor