Around me, like a blanket,
nature wraps its scent
of bush and bark,
of fertile soil,

as if I am the tree
and comfort comes
from fragile foliage

folding into colours
that glisten like gold
over crisp blades
of cut grass

that feel like velvet
beneath my feet
and I thread softly
and I move carefully

like the compassionate clouds overhead.

Before me with roots
deeper than time
a tree stands tall
entangled with memories

with madness,
with a sadness
that cannot be buried,
that cannot be wrapped
in a blanket.

We plant our past in fertile fields
and water them with our tears

in the hope for a brighter future.


This field, in Parc de Sceaux, in a southern suburb of Paris, is the site of the Mémorial de la Shoah, a memorial to the deportation of the Jewish during World War II.

All words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on SoundCloud:

10 thoughts on “FERTILE FIELDS

    1. deuxiemepeau

      Thank you my friend, I fell upon this place by accident but its swiping colour, space and silence made me stop and take pictures and then I saw a plaque explaining its existence and it felt like the wind were whispering echoes of what had once been and the light suggesting what could be.

  1. Chuck

    I have always wanted to, but never knew how to write prose or poetry. It made it more moving by having you read it. Thanks for sharing.

    1. deuxiemepeau

      Thank you so much Chuck. I think poetry is just an ocean of words you dive in to, the waves do the rest as they wash over you. Best wishes

  2. Stefanie Neumann

    Thank you for another touching poem, dear Dami!
    I enjoyed very much the description of Mother Nature wrapping her scent like a blanket, especially while hearing you reciting the poem for us. Also, I love the idea of planting our past in fertile soil and watering it with our tears so that a better present can grow from it. The image really carries the special energy you must have encountered in the park.
    Much love,

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