In the supermarket
on Saturday
in the 14th,
on the 14th,
in numb November,
in Paris, their Paris,
our Paris, my Paris,
people push grief
in comfortless trolleys
down shadowed aisles
of silence, strangers
claiming their spaces
in solidarity, in queues
of slow moving sorrow,
seeing shadow in places
where once there was light,
terror in crowds
where once there was music,
death in their streets
where once there was life.
In a supermarket
in the 14th,
on the 14th,
as the numbers rise
on a Saturday morning,
there is nothing available
on a single shelf
to fill the void
of what we lost
in the night.
It’s not the whole world
It’s not the end of the world
but it’s far too far from a perfect world.
on n’oublié pas
espoir est plus fort que horreur
Hope is stronger than horror
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Jane Dougherty Writes 