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Donall Dempsey
Poems
Aug 2019
ALL THE FIELDS OF THE FARM
ALL THE FIELDS OF THE FARM
Spring had blossomed
into being
infecting him
like a virus.
He could feel the season
run wild in his blood
making him
want to run
to all the fields of the farm
and all the fields of the farm
welcomed him knew him
as a growing thing
this the youngest
of his days.
He ran for only
the beauty of the running
the joy of being
alive
to be the boy he was
in this moment.
The freedom of not
needing to name or own
in order to understand
the existence of this now.
And when he returned
from all the directions
that the wind had to
offer
a boy of cuts and scratches
a smile stained with blackberries
burrs cling to him
for dear life
shirt torn
honeysuckle strewn
he was no longer
the boy who
had run off into
the beginning of spring
but had become
through his joy
all the fields
of the farm.
Written by
Donall Dempsey
Guildford
(Guildford)
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