New leaf climbs old tree-
this ivy will not be held
down is no direction,
dynamic is the trail of this root
now gleaming on the hallow wood.
Sometimes empty centres are for holding
hopeful hearts.
Layers of leaves come like coats of zinc-
a wrapping for these times were comfort is craved.
Nature nurtures freshly cut back bark
by the side of the garden
where thought had been neglected.
Not everything will survive-
not all bark, not all breath,
but hope, when held, can be as simple
as a trail of fresh branch
born around a broken bark.
Words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Damien B. Donnelly 
Did you know that my heart had been broken on the day when you published this poem?
I should have read it, then. 😘
(But better late than never!)
No, I’m sorry to heart this my dear friend. Filling this message with hugs and thoughts of comfort ☘️💚☘️💚🤗🤗🤗
Thank you, Dami!
I did not mean it in a worry-some way, though.
(It had just been too much struggle in the past years so the pain made way for itself, on Saturday and it felt literally like my heart was broken.)
I meant to say, that your poem feels so soothing, I think it would have helped, instantly. Your comforting hugs do, too! I gratefully take them and am sending mine back your way! 🤗🤗🤗
Thank you for the hugs in return and glad to hear the poem added a little relief. We bottle so much up in our battles to build and climb and open and protect and find ourselves and our connections and keep our sense of freedom that there are days when breathing can feel impossible and other days when the laughter is truly like medicine. I wish for you days of laughter my friend ☘️💚☘️💚⭐️⭐️
(((💗))) – I surely could use more of that laughter. The bottling up was never anything I wanted to do. Unfortunately it was necessary in order to survive in those phases when just too much crap was coming my way at once. But hey, whom am I telling this? 😘