BLUE MOON

The moon was a blue whisper
and beauty a delirious ache
even the breath could not crush,
a sorrow born in summer
under a sky of shadows.

I picture you;
petrified over a pool of pulsing pain.

I run,
often to leave
before being left.
Like once I was left?
And the moon was a whisper in blue.

I run,
to get away quicker
this time.
Than that time?
When beauty was a delirious ache.

I outrun
not this skin,
not this being I have become
of years and tears and tensions,
but a feeling
that has festered
since I was fostered.
And somewhere still is a sky of shadows.

I leave
through the open door,
somehow left ajar
as if someone
might one day
return through it.
To release the breath that was crushed.

As if someone
might one day remember
what they had left behind
when summer gave birth
to sorrow for a season,
for some still unknown reason.

But what if,
in all that time,
in all that motion,
I have run
too far to be found?
And you remain
in that pulsing pool of pain.

I run
with little thought
to where I am going
but with every effort
to hide what I am too frightened
to find.

The moon was a blue whisper
and beauty a delirious ache
even the breath could not crush.
A sorrow born in summer
under a sky of shadows.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

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4 thoughts on “BLUE MOON

  1. exploringcolour

    Such a haunting, poignant poem and very beautiful. I love the way the first verse is like an introduction and the following verses refer back until it ends where it began. I guess there’s a standard term for this style but I’m calling it recursive for now. i love this one. It expresses so much. I love all of it but especially the open door verse, which I kept on going back to. Wow!

    1. deuxiemepeau

      I love the term recursive- I think I’ll adopt it for the style from now on Liz. The base of the poem had been there for a few weeks but it was missing something and suddenly this week the first verse arrived which then flowed through the rest of it. So glad you liked it. This one’s dear to me. 🤗🤗

  2. Olga

    Many thoughts ran in my mind as I read this. It’s interesting how we always find our way back to the beginning. Loved how you described the returning moon as a blue whisper. 🙂

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