We realised our parks were built on corpses;
we realised sober men had lied
when, knowingly, they amplified
the voices of the monsters
we were led to reckon saints;
we realised the misers of our bodies
had made those bodies alien to us,
and took them back so we could give
them freely for the first time in far more
than living memory; we realised that
to stay was suffocation: we realised
that getting out would hurt,
and we made the break anyway. Realised
a different way of being in the world.
We saw the Power that we had been
and the nation that we could be
and the sweetness of the wallow
we'd enjoy in waxwork replicas of all our
glory days: and we did not wallow,
and we did not run away.
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