To the student at St. Francis Prep

To the student at St. Francis Prep

who, when I asked about your hobbies, replied, 

"I'm learning to write with my left hand."

A few students laughed. I shushed them.

I thought it was the coolest thing I'd ever heard. 

That was sophomore year.

Now I have you as a senior and

I asked you if you ever learned 

to write with your left hand?

You said you gave it up.

You looked sad and tired

when you said it.

It made me sad to hear it.

I remembered your spark.

I wanted you to get your 

unlaughed-at ambition back.

What happens when you do something 

filled with whimsy and wonder

like learning to write with your left hand?

What happens when you take 

the other half of yourself, the lesser half, 

and focus your attention there.

Will this become by extension,

a representation of every neglected

love?

The word sinister comes from 

the latin and means "on the left side."

When you gave up learning to write left-handed

did you give up your equanimity?

What would your left hand be

if it was held in equal regard to your right?

I'm far left, I know. 

I want the suffering to stop.

I want the down-trodden to flourish.