Writing with a left hand
On the post-it notes
Seems nostalgic
It has been ages to begin
Writing with a left hand
At the age of three
Only to be dissuaded from using left-hand
It is a scar to remember those times
Being forced to learn
Writing with my right hand
Though I have been writing with my right hand
Left hand and feet are my first reactions
Being too compliant to force myself
Writing with my right hand
Seeking acceptance and to love my parents
Knowing they care
Hoping to blend with the common people
Blending like a chameleon
Writing with my right hand
As a camouflage to be accepted as the norm
But
Left hand and feet are my first reactions
In whatever I do
Right hand and feet are the next movements
Living a confused life
Only to find out the real me
After marriage and teaching my son
My left hand automatically draws and writes
A surprising realisation
Only to be treated as the odd ones in my family
Yes, they care about me
Yet I feel suppressed to comply to their opinions
Because I care about how they feel
Only when my suppression grows worse
The more I am against their opinions for not understanding me
Wishing only Jesus, my Lord and Saviour
Though they mean it for good
God means it for my own good too
Being an ambidextrous
Inspiration On: Friday, 3 July 2015 at 7:43pm
Inspiration Ends On: Wednesday, 8 July 2015 at 5:35pm
It has been ages for me to write with my left hand. It feels good and sentimental to remember my younger days. The more I understand myself and feeling strange about myself for being the odd one in my family. Hope this poetry able to comfort others who go through the same thing as I do. You are not alone. Wish you all have good days and thank you.
Yoshiko 