I will always recall you in reflection rather than reality,
a ripple on the water rather than the roughness on the rue.
I saw you in smooth sheets of stillness stretched over ponds
that should have shivered but you wouldn’t change
and I couldn’t stay who I was forever, not even for you.
You were comprised of stilled cycles so often celebrated
but I wanted to catch a ride on something not so set in stone.
Indoors, away from the stilled ponds projecting your pride
onto palaces, you hung mirrors to admire your own reflection
but I returned from the other side of desire’s distraction
to uncover the truth of who we were beyond admiration.
You cannot reflect the stars forever, especially
when the gutters have come so close to the glass.
All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly
This month is about looking back to see who I was before moving on to who I am becoming. An end, for now, to the Paris Cycle that started when I was 22 and will end at 44, though we had 18 years of separation in between.