I read you
through pictures,
past and fading,
fast forgetting what it was
to be free,
what it was to be healthy.
I read you in
leaves that fall
from twisted trees
when summer is still shining,
when autumn has not yet begun,
when seasons no longer come when expected.
I read you
in rivers that are rising
and seas no longer salty
but bashed by bitter tears
the years have pushed with pollution
in place of finding a solution.
I read you
through hope no longer healthy,
no longer worthy to the wealthy
who’ve drained you dry.
There is no blood in stone,
there is no money making motive left unturned
but we are turned,
but we are undone,
have undone this wizened world
and home is now hardly a harbour
but a broken boat
waiting to be tossed from a world
once known, once cherished,
now blown to bits,
scattered fragments
like falling leaves,
like rising rivers,
like discoloured waters,
like extinct animals,
fading in pictures of what beauty once was
before man made demands without counting the cost.

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

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