–

I held on so long to a comfort

stuffed into the curve of my arm,

on nights when no one noticed

the child behind this mask of man.

I held on to a space outdated,

to a void I thought I’d vacated,

crouching into a cramped corner

of considered claustrophobia,

convinced I was more the victor

than the victim

–

(at times we can be both).

–

I held on so long to a tear

I thought time had torn but tides

are temperamental, unlike teddies,

they fold back on themselves

and we are swept again under, later,

long after, as if they had waited

to defy expectation

–

(we are experts at expecting to be the exception).

–

No one and nothing drowns

in the first wave. All and everything

is a cycle, tides come and go

and then return to take some more.

We are children and then adults

until adults lost in longing,

longing to understand the hold

of the child behind this mask of man.

–

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly