Identities Poem by Philippa Lane
Identities
There is always a doubt
Never quite visible
Like a coin thrown in
A muddy puddle
Rings of uncertainty
Extending beyond
One’s self
Where nervous hands
Falter and grope
Into nothingness
Where eyes blur
Trying to focus
On what is unsure
Am I the coin
Or the puddle?
(Senneville,1998) .
I think the last line is very good, focuses the previous descriptions, which are also quite evocative.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 1:42:31 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I like this poem and the image you found for the uncertainty about those regions of our self which we cannot grasp, where we feel in muddy waters indeed.