Falling…
through time
that never truly changes
while never really stopping,
through thoughts
that cannot be accounted for,
that cannot be considered
accountable
and still we are counting
but not the cost.
Falling…
through floorboards
of homes that are no more
(did we invent the word war?)
no more the heart at home,
no more the heart of the home;
home now an ocean bed
and no boat big enough
to hold us all
even the arc
only took two of everything
while the heavens ran with rain
yet the heart still beats
like time,
still falling…
through cracks that cannot be closed
and every splinter
splits the skin
of illusion
and we are all a delusion;
a fading reflection
of subjection,
rejection,
speculation and conjecture;
the spectre of conjecture.
Falling…
through hands
that no longer hold
hearts now hardened
(and they say icebergs are melting)
hearts have grown cold
and have no place in homes.
Drowning…
in shallow shoals
shoals of souls
too shallow to swim in,
too sullied to see survival
as we rewrite the bible.
Drowning…
in the falling rain
too polluted to have faith in,
faith; and so fell faith
fate; and so befell Our Fate
in slow moving tears
on piers were boats are bound
to no harbour,
to no hope,
to no humanity
(christianity was a cross to heavy to bare)
Falling…
while standing up
and yet no one seems to notice.
“I came in bright as a neon light and I burnt out right there before him.’ This line is taken from Joni Mitchell’s song Lesson in Survival
All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Audio version available at SoundCloud:
https://soundcloud.com/damien-donnelly-2/no-room-in-the-arc
Damien B. Donnelly 
Wow. What an awesome poem, Dami!
I listened to/read it twice.
I can relate to this feeling of falling while the old energies of an old era are breaking away. Yet, we are still standing as we are creating new grounds; a new world – so new that it never has been before.
Much love,
Steffi