I climb trees to forlese the briar and catch the soil
from this bird’s eye view, but my sight is not the same
as sad sparrow so I cannot see if something is stirring
in the rat race below and yet said sparrow can spot
the worm before he enters up into the air
from the earth.
I rub oil, later, over scrapped skin and curse nature
for its thoughtless thorn as I catch a reflection
of Anxious staring out from eyes that cannot see
the thorn of these times. Perception is paramount
to understanding, visible is half the battle, blindness
is not just bound to sight.
I can climb trees and cut thorns but I cannot fly
from this place while erratic dust wiggles like worms
through air I try not to inhale.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Based in a Twitter Poetry Prompt
2 thoughts on “THORNS”
Thanks Damien – it is nice to see the fruits of your labours, and imagine as you hack through the overgrowth.
Oh goodness Nigel, it you were here you might have told us to take it easy! But the muscles I’ve discovered after 32 trees and a hand saw are now legendary! Garden work is as enlightening as therapy! You lovelies take care of each other. Greetings from the indoors, where we’ve taken to painting and decorating while waiting for the new grass to grow! ☘️☘️🌟🌟