We’ll leave the plinth free, in Bristol and elsewhere
We’ll leave our plinths free of the half-healthy, of flawed fame raised up
Why deify the speckled whose time is gone?
Why deify the speckled who did right and wrong?
You shout for him and I shout for her
But really we just shout at each other in a sculpture of the absurd
So we’ll leave our plinths free, take responsibility for ourselves
Bronze effigies won’t lead us on from here
No fault of their own, but they are stuck in the past
Statuesque and static, unable to be present, though maybe willing us on from the grave
Willing on our own speckled selves, this present flesh and blood
The only hope available
As we leave our plinth free, holding only fresh air, unattached to old shapes, free of old patterns and forms
And find hope in the space, from no thing, some thing
Listening afresh to unknown and unfolding times
We leave the plinth free, the plinth of our heart, we leave it always free