written by Anna O’Flynn. Anna (she/her) is a poet and fiction writer from Cork, Ireland. She fell in love with writing at a young age while looking up at the books adorning her shelf. She attempts to use the power of words to give life and do justice to the raving thoughts milling around in her head. All while she prepares to sit her Leaving Cert.
If we have atoms, not souls,
And our atoms are other’s,
Does that mean we are made
Of that same, fundamental cloth?
A biblical rib,
A poison apple.
If my skin is not my skin,
And my eyes are on loan
From the world that claims us back,
Dust to dust.
A cycle of decay and destruction,
To be born again
And what a joy to be born
With atoms, not souls.
Who has time for souls?
Not I,
No sir, I have no time.
Give me atoms so you and I are one and the same,
We are the same.
A startling thought I know.
I wonder how many of yours I have taken?
Not enough, surely.
I wonder how many of mine I have imparted?
Not enough, surely.
If my hands are, indeed, your hands,
And my breath, your breath,
Then I shall be content knowing I carry you with me,
Forever grateful for what cannot be created or destroyed.
How sickening that anyone should want to destroy
Any blessèd particle of you.
Image: Untitled 3 by Clodagh Conneally
Clodagh is a tourism and languages graduate. They enjoy visiting new places and see the beauty everywhere they go. They describe themselves as a bit of a memory hoarder so they love to take photographs to immortalise everywhere they go.
