Silence surrounds
this sweet stillness,
icicles are falling;
tears streaming
new paths
down old windows
once home
to fading reflections
and the robin
and his red chested breast;
forever stained, forever beating,
flaps through the open field
in search of a hushed hope
in buds that will soon bloom,
in life that will soon turn
below the hardened earth
and muddied soil.
We have spilt blood,
been drunk on its bitterness
and still we parch for more.
Sweet is this silence;
these mornings breaking,
crisp and cold,
cutting through the layers
we are desperate to shed,
we too are seasonal;
we rise with a spring
and tumble through each fall,
we are hot headed
and cold hearted
when comfort constricts,
melting pain down windows
too frosty to show any solutions
until we are emptied
and in the silence,
in that slowly
sweetening stillness
we are renewed;
ready to cut new reflections
into the smooth surface
of that shatterable glass,
our faith fluttering
on wings of hope.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Audio version available on Soundcloud