Janice Hale-Hobby

SYMBOLIA

When I listen to my soul,
a smooth pebble ripples in a reflection pond.
But today thoughts skip across whitecaps
and the sun hides behind the clouds.

In the dark shadows where the moss hangs
even darker shadows in black water,
I am what I do not know,
felt but unapparent.

Like wooden shapes placed
in children's careful hands
behind their backs.
Symbolia, it was called.

I have lived my life with one arm
pinned behind my back,
one foot in yesterday and
one foot in tomorrow,
skimming, skipping, splashing, sinking.

Symbolia, it was called.
My life, a series of reversals.