There is a gentle light
shining in this place
that is not yet home,
pouring hope
into a hold beginning
to pull on my grip.

There is a light,
a subtle light
adding a lightness
to all that is weighing;
the furniture,
the fittings,
the fitting in
to a city
that has not changed
during my absence
while I have not stopped,
a city often angry
as I search for a place
of solitude
amid all that leans
towards arrogance,
of comfort
to come in from
the chaos and the clutter
and the claws
clutching at scraps
in the cold corners
the commenters
are unconcerned with.

there is a gentle light
to lay under and dream
of what will go where
in this house
soon to be a home.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

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