Waterside

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?
Anxieties? Desires?
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

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