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On hill. Never was wind through
trees more seductive, but I put it from me.
Inwardly I feel impotent. This
A.M. I take hold with baby fingers, and yet I have
stood apart, and with strength. Was this strength
given by another to show me the way. Everything is
in such a muddle!
These feelings, against no one
in particular, that flood my being and at times rise
to an impotent rage so that I could grind under my
heel this Abbey and all of its inmates (and I just
this moment hurt an ant & am sorry) are cumulative.
They mount and mount, until not finding an outlet
they bowl me over and find such outlet through my
collapse. |