MOTION

We stop and start

like trains

caught between tracks,

caught between the gaps

of where to go

and how to get back.

We stop and start

like trolleys

left wheel veering right,

right wheel now left

of the centre

but the centre falls apart.

We stop and start

like breath

the taking in and letting go,

the filling up and that feeling

of deflation

as the air of our space is dispelled.

I am made

of minor movements

performed at high speeds

on packed platforms,

before halted at temporary stations

that bare no regard to my route

or my rhythm.

I consist of baggages

within carriages,

not always connected,

my head in the trunk

and my feet walking blind

through corridors

that follow no order.

I am oxygen,

a vessel of the big O,

I have no room really

to hoard,

I can only board,

my belongs are as temporary

as this element my lungs;

kiss, caress and release.

We stop and start

and start again

and then stop.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

TAKEN

 

What to report?

To what port must you swim,

in how little can one drown

(shallow is often

the sister to shady)

air is not anything

until it is nothing

 

and nowhere,

 

(sometimes existence

is only revealed

through disappearance)

are you someone

until you are seen

in the eyes of another?

 

What to report?

to which port do we reinvent,

circumvent,

is it possible for one to prevent,

(can prevention deter

a discernable direction)

fear is not anything

until it is everything

 

and everywhere,

 

(this skin does not tingle

until it’s been touched

or torn)

 

is there still a light

in the darkness

of the ransacked room

of this ravaged organ?

 

What to report?

How do you report

the trust that was taken (for granted)?

 

I tied to report it

but trust,

once taken,

cannot be listed

as things stolen

on a police report.

 

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

FLYING IN AIR

I am airborne,
Life is being lived
Beneath me
Amid the flickering lights,
In the daunting darkness,
Like festive fairies twinkling-
All myth and mystery,
Miles away
Amid mountains
That look like molehills,
Meandering mechanically
In moving motors.

I am now living
In the breath held,
Passing through time,
Pausing,
Passive,
Patient,
Pondering possibilities,
Playing ability
Against probability
Wondering where I will rest
One day, that day
When wings ring out
With weariness
And my feet find their land again
And path to plod along.
I know
What lies beneath,
Have seen the suction
Of the cites
And their seduction,
Have seen the wonder
In the wilderness
Where wolves are wild
And winds are free,
But I am ignorant
Of what rests above,
Up there,
Out of reach,
Far from sight
In the darkening deafness,
Beyond the burnt out stars
And all understanding of existence.

I am airborne,
Live is being
Lived out
Beneath me,
Without me,
And I wonder
Are the souls
Who left me
Long ago
Flying above me?

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Haunted Heart

What particular particle

Of the self

Left itself behind

In your absence?

What form of matter

Is this

That moves

When all else in the night

Sleeps soundly?

Because here I am,

Stirred so,

My body jerked alert,

My eyes wide open

And my senses

Shouting to me

That you’ve just left the room.

And yet,

I know deep within

The deception

That resides in this thinking,

I know this feeling

Lacking in fact,

I know this belief

To be hallow of truth.

It is not

And cannot be,

In any reasonable way,

Your scent I can smell

Still sitting in this now chilly air.

It is not,

And likewise should not be,

The soft shuffle of your shoes

I can hear crossing the hall.

Tell me now,

In all seriousness-

With my conscious mind in control,

How I could believe it to be

The touch of your hand

That brushed me from slumber

Or the gentle kiss of your lips

On my neck, so soft,

That teased me out of a dream?

Why is it that now,

So much more than before,

You are the resonance of every

Waking thought,

As if all else

Were but secondary servings

Of something less substantial.

I am failing

In these nocturnal

Awakenings

To understand

How your absence

Speaks more about you

Than your presence,

All memories

Now more concrete fact

Than what was formerly a reality.

How does this present

Present you

More to me now

Than in the past?

I held your hands,

In those final moments,

Before you found your freedom

As the darkness

Released you finally

While everything else lost itself-

For what seemed like forever-

To silence

And a darkness of another sort

Fell upon my life

In your passing

And floundered to find its exit

Within me,

For so long after.

You see,

My dilemma,

My dearly departed-

I thought you gone,

I thought us done,

I thought our forever, over.

And yet,

Here I am-

Sitting up alone

Where once we lay together-

Blind to the sight of you

But convinced

Deep down,

In the depths of my soul,

That you feel me,

Hear me

And see me.

I know, with every ache of this solitary existence,

That you have left this earth for good,

But I cannot explain,

In any humanly perceivable way,

How much I feel you haunting my heart.

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