Heavy Hands
You were just drawing.
Of course it decides
In the moment of imagination
Beautiful creation, the pencil decides to
Bend and
Snap and
Break.
You were just drawing!
Passion built up
Your pencil flowed like a river through the hills
Twists and turns and pirouettes
Skips and leaps and then it — !
waterfalls
down
And crashes.
It doesn’t take long to realize
This pencil just moves a bit differently.
Not long to look over and see the other
Light
Loose
Lines
Hands swift across the paper
Like birds hopping
Joyfully
From branch to branch.
Your bird is burdened and bent
Heavy, dark strokes
It slices through the pure white paper
Making the clouds tremble and shake.
An angry current, tossing and turning and
Unpredictable
And real.
Of course it has to break.
You keep coming back to it, hoping things will be better
You keep dreaming of becoming that
Beautiful, graceful bird, but every time there’s
Graphite dust
Black dust blooms like fireworks boom always
Way too soon
On the white paper.
And the anger burns like a bright white torch
That scorches your gut.
You’re about to turn the page start over, but again you wonder
If the pain that made you shudder could shoulder you, nurture you
Always hoping for a brighter future you try,
But the black dusk keeps coming back it haunts
Every moment that you wish
The scribbles and scratches that an eraser cannot fix
will leave.
And even as scars turn into something beautiful
As a bird stumbles to its feet, you still question
Because if this is your purpose
Is it all worth it?
No one told you how much it would hurt
But you did it anyway.
Phuong Le