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 Pages Of A Woman's Soul


How tangled our thoughts and artlessly
surreal they become,
full blown in fantasy:
impossibility molded into
near perfection.
Immortal flights of fancy carry me
ahead, behind,
as someone other than the one
in whom reality tries
to strike daily blows
of inadequacy.

What now?

"Just think it and pretend
it's true," I said...
...and that voice, disembodied
came back to me from the mindless
conformity of a Catholic nun:
"Get your head out of the clouds
and quit daydreaming!"
And I did...

...'til now,
when at forty,
truly fulfilled, happy,
connected to God, it's easy
to get lost in meanderings of
remembrances to come
and feel,
float on joy,
and sigh.

K.Tate Jacoby
March 21, 1997

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