There in the lake’s reflection
I am watching an image
That is like a dream.
Me, but not me.
On the other side
What is the reflection thinking?
Looking back at me?
Does the waterside share the same memories?
If I reach in to touch the water, what does the waterside feel?
Where dry meets wet, wet transfers.
Is waterside more me than I am?
I can’t tell.
And it’s hard not knowing.
I feel judged, and also forgiven,
Beautiful and flawed,
Certain and so insecure.
Nichole M. Dulin