For the past six months, I have been drawing and writing more with my left hand. It is always interesting to see what comes out.
When I draw left handed I am free of line perfection. My hand can meander; creating loose, bumpy lines. When writing with my left hand, my mind does more than meander: words just start coming...no editing, correcting or judging. Thankfully, my mind waits patiently as my left hand tries to catch up, as my penmanship is jagged and scratchy.
Here is what came out one Tuesday night:
Have you ever had your heart fly away?
Not too far - just beyond reach. Just far enough you hold your breath and extend your arm and reach from your soul.
No one tells you to stop, so you continue...forever.
Then, your arm tires and your soul collapses and you pick up tiny pieces like starts from the sky, but they fit no where!
No one wants them - not even you. You wait. You breathe.
You hold your breath again, but this time you reach into your chest.
There is nothing inside; only the place you use to be.
Empty and gone.
But you wait.
You wait like an old man does for the bus.
You wait, and you wait some more.
Your ride never comes.
You walk and breathe.
You hold your breath and skip. That doesn't work at all!
When nothing comes, you throw your head back and cry.