The Inner Workings of a Clock

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I am locked in a battle between who I am (my humanity) and the Catholic schoolgirl mold that was held up as perfection.

The Inner Workings of a Clock

My Catholic schoolgirl
Denies my shadowy persona.
Costumed in
A navy blue uniform 
A snow-white blouse,
A chest pocket embroidered
By Saint John Fisher,
Her youthful bearing ticks
Smoothly, quietly, piously.

My Catholic schoolgirl leads
The May Day procession
She crosses herself and genuflects.
Wrapped in rosary beads,
She pushes my golden orb,
Tilted and warped as it is,
Into its preordained trajectory
Toward saintliness.

Starships of jealousy and greed
Some dressed as childish lies
Others as adult deceptions
Pitch me into a blackness
Unnoticed by my angelic clock.
Hands circulate 360 degrees.
Springs unwind.
Inner pendulums
Swing madly.
Simultaneously, I am
Remorseful and gleeful.

Twelve o’clock is
My imagined sanctity of
Honeyed knowledge.
Six o’clock is
My known blasphemy.
I wear my hair shirt with pride.
Tortoiselike, I see only
Darkness or light.

My Catholic 
Schoolgirl’s soul
Refuses to apologize
For my humanity
Nor does she brag.
I am God’s creation,
A jigsaw of sharp-edged pieces.

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Kathleen Kroll

Date: 6/27/2018 8:08:00 PM

Thanks for reading and commenting. Perhaps it's just a different kind of mischief

Old Buck

Date: 6/27/2018 7:55:00 PM

It's hard to be good, at least when you're young enough to have options. As we age, mischief fades. Not the idea of it, but the ability to get into it. :o) Thanks for sharing this glimpse into your past with all of us on the soup. oldbuck

Kathleen Kroll
Date: 6/27/2018 8:09:00 PM

Thanks for reading and commenting!!

John Fleming

Date: 7/19/2017 7:18:00 PM

Not quite as straightforward as it purports to be I suspect; I actually find it rather difficult, in places, to fully interpret...however that just makes it even more intriguing - A very good poem, Kathleen! My very warmest regards as always! :) john