‘An Irishman’s heart is nothing but his imagination’
George Bernard Shaw
I came back, looking to find the pieces I’d left behind,
in my parting, having since shed so much of the things
once thought treasures along the trail. I came back,
wondrous for the parts as yet unopened, unlike the heart
I never knew how to close, or the route I never knew
how to resist. Even in that taxi, that took me away,
I held your hand and thought of another, since departed,
and wondered whose next I would hold. Even my thoughts
had been off and running, always eager for something else,
the something shiny, the scent of something in flight.
I never liked to nest too long in the shadow of the same tree.
I came back to recall the beginning, to remember all
the dreams I had yet to deliver and there, upon a wall
where I watched a robin consider the rouge of his chest,
a wall I thought I’d never get back over, I saw your words
and realised all that I am and will be is because of how
faithful this heart has been to the concept of imagination.
And I turned and took to the task with red chest ready to roar.
All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly
I’m off now to attend the first day of the Doolin Writers’ Weekend here in Doolin, Co. Clare on the west coast of Ireland.
4 thoughts on “WHEN IMAGINATION COMES BACK HOME”
LOL! Great way to kick off 2020 – “red chest ready to roar” 🙂
Red chest was ready and went in Roaring 👏👏👏❤️
Love this. Acceptance of self and the past, that’s what frees us to roar into the future. Enjoy your retreat. Write stuff.
I wrote stuff!!! 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 🤭🤗