I lift a book and watch as dust particles catch air
(dust; tiny particles of waste matter lying on surfaces)
sentences stir, structure returns to life after slumber,
some things come back- having long been forgotten
(memory; the mental ability to retain and to recall
I turn pages with consideration, parts pressed back
through time, corners folded over where you wanted
to hold onto a moment for longer, retaining words
that came easy but were lost too soon.
My fingers trace the line of narrow spine still holding
onto crinkled paper like crisped skin that once held us
in firm holds to spite time.
If time was held in paper, I’d take it, like the pages
in this book and fold back the parts too piercing
for the memory and duplicate days where we held
minutes as monumental, recalling them later, after,
when dust settles and weeds overgrow the delusion
that we should have been more.
(Delusion; a fixed false belief, resistant to reason)
I lift the book and watch as dust catches air-
particles of spirits that still matter, recalled from pages
that once held them captive before their chapter came
to its conclusion.
(Conclusion; the end or finish of an event or text).
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly