YELLOW LIGHT

 

I never knew
how far I could bend
before I would break

until it snapped
before the sunrise
before the yearning
of the yellow light found me

longing,

looking for a lost breath
in the back of a dark chest
I had filled with every worry

that wasn’t mine.

Even an elastic
knows its limit
before it lies limp,

before it cannot recall
its own recovery,
before its tension
rips it from its reason.

   

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

15th poem for NaPoWriMo

MEDITATION UNDER THE YELLOW SUN

 

I wanted to draw
the sound of the moon
on a sun-drenched beach
stripped down to white sand,
white wave, white skin
starved for affection.
I wanted to draw
the silent sound of that moon
as the chaos of the current
crashed down on the crowds
clawing at each other
for a moment
below the spot of sunlight
that burnt them quicker
than they could contemplate
a commitment to content
while I sketched
the white light circling the night,
even in daylight,
even in the terror and the fright
that twist through the lyrics
these lives lived on the edge
of the sinking shore
will forever be linked to.
I wanted to put onto paper
that palpable possibility
of holding stillness while all else moved,
of leaning into the moonlight melody
while the daylight drowned out thought,
of holding silence in a song
while the sand surrendered
to the will of the shore.

I wanted to draw
the sound of the moon…

that sensation of being surrounded
in a single sway of stillness,
a solo seduction of strings
pulling me towards the white light
at the centre of the night’s clarity
as the yellow sun strips the sea
from the sand.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

3rd poem for National Poetry Writing Month 2019