Sentenced to Peace (notes on Don McCullin)
Passing through six rooms of a life
in the aperture of his minds eye.
From Finsbury Park to Palmyra,
in this final space he speaks to me.
Grotesque gargoyles broken against rocks,
an empty child on the withered breast.
Poverty in Black and White,
a gloating victor defiles a corpse.
In this end room landscapes open out,
trees reach to darkened skies where the sun shines through,
here he finds his peace,
here is where he seals the doors.
Here is where he steps beyond the lens
from the dark room into light,
where earth no longer surrenders to men
here’s where he can live again.