How does

the heart

still pump,

how does

the blood

still run

when these

feet won’t move?

How do

the bones

not break,

how does

this skin

not shed

when these

hands cannot hold?

We dress

ourselves in

solid shields

of security

(see this shining steel)

that cannot sooth

the single soul

still shivering

in a body

still pumping,

still running,

still searching

for the answer…

are we

a whole story

here alone

and naked

and beating

and pumping

and bleeding

and crying

and crawling

through the hope

or just a half truth,

never truly told,

never really held,

never fully realized?

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly