Wilful in ways worrisome 
like in the wilderness weaned,
he was born of the breeze
and bound from baby to be breathless 

and when they caught him he said;

‘When I lay me down
let the ground make of me what it wants,
let the soil seek substance beneath my skin.’

Reckless in ruthless rebellion
like the river ravages routes,
too timid to be touched
and too tormented to be tamed 

and when they chained him he said;

‘When I lay me down
let the sun make of me what it wants
let its rays find rest on my remains.’

But as they strung him up
he heard, in the distance, the feathers running restless,
and as they pulled the rope
he knew, in the mountains, the vultures were hovering

eager, at last, to make a meal out of what was a beast of a man.


All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Photograph taken just outside of Galway in Ireland.

Audio version available on Soundcloud:


    1. Thank you Elizabeth. I think I’d spent all week listening to the soundtrack of Inside Llewyen Davis in work and it sank in deep. Best wishes Dami

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