Looking Out, Looking In

Looking from a window to watch waterfowl feed 
I experience the external, invite beauty to rest inside me,
Extreme green grass lit by languishing golden beams,
Endless soothing waves of Nature’s nuances. 

As sun sets, though, I see my reflection in the window,
Evidence of my presence on glass peering inward.
Enters a sober thought I am here now – living. 

Sometimes these days I wonder when I will no longer be,
It’s surprising to ruminate this gravely at age 53. 

Didn’t used to dwell on the imminence of death.
Have seen myself riding an upright bike at 96,
Sagging wrinkled skin in shorts, no care about looks,
White haired and tan along a beach among the young. 

Now I am deadlined to discover every tangible detail,
Though I seem healthy, not that aged, certainly not terminal.
When away from hospitals, that sick dream falls away.
This infernal disease must be an alternate reality. 

I believe in just one God and She hasn’t called me home.
Sooner than hope will I look up, see my countenance dying,
Or old, wonder how strange the fiction had become? 

I often feel no pain – Can you say the same?
Is my exterior body lying? Do you see me dissolving? 

The following morning I look outward with fresh eyes
Through fog that fades in the rising warmth
And see geese breed unabashed beside the lakeshore.

©️ 2024 Laura E. Garrard

Laura E. Garrard is a multiple myeloma thriver and published author living in the Northwest. Her poetry and prose have appeared in journals like The Madrona Project, Amethyst, Silver Birch, TulipTree Review, and others.