"Left-handed Lament"

I didn't mind that the desks at school
   weren't set up for left-handers.
Or that I could never sit between people
   at a restaurant without feeling like
   an awkward hockey goalie.

No, it was the very language of Left-Handed Ness
   that began to trouble me . . .

I no longer wanted to be: 

	left behind
	left out
(eating)	left-overs
(or having)	Left-Handed Wisdom
(or God forbid, have a)	Left-Handed Marriage
(or knowing there was nothing)	Left To Do!

Yes, even my politics were under suspicion:

(I live on the radical)	Left Coast
(I seem to be surrounded by)	Leftist Social Justice Warriors
(and I've supported)	Leftist Guerrillas
(while condemning)	Right-Wing Paramilitants

No, in my Heart-Of-Hearts, I wanted to be:

	Right-Minded
	Right-Sized
(have a)	Right Livelihood
(be on the)	Right Hand of God
(be)	Righteous
(make everything)	All Right
(and raise my fist & shout)	Right On!

 
When did this Left-Handed phobia begin?
The Anglo-Saxons thought that the very word LEFT
   was "weak" or "broken”,
   while in earlier Latin "left" meant "sinister”.

Why couldn't humans simply be like the
   pelican, platypus, or puma
   and be equally left and right-pawed?
Maybe left-handedness is God's way of keeping
   A Chosen Few ready to save the world
   when Armageddon comes . . .

I think it's time for me to come clean —
   I mean,
   in a "biblical" kind of way.

For I am neither left nor right-handed,
   but BOTH,
   which puts me in a very awkward position.
Because if I don't identify with either team,
   does this mean I'll always be doomed to
      Eternal Indecisiveness?
      Lateral Immobility?
      Moral Ambiguity?
      Delayed Spiritual Ascension?
When I’m done sorting all of this out,
    I think I'll move to England.

At least they know what side of the street to drive on . . . 

 

March 2022

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©2022, Michael Smolens