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) .
Philippa Lane
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/identities-2/
