The planet's lights are dimmed, and thirty thousand kids
are dancing with a pint skiff in each hand,
and I am full of nothing more than sober hope.
I'm glad they're innocent of how it was
back then. Our world was closed until further notice.
I hope they never speak the litany of names,
those bars and villages and restaurants
translated in a moment from simple proper nouns
to lexicons of grieving. I'm glad they're here,
doing what we should have done,
blowing their pay on the price of a concert ticket.
The band sings, and we all sing, and we promise
to open our eyes, and the kids dance, not realising
that the years to come are theirs.
I love their heedless lack of understanding,
their ignorance of all our bitter fractures,
and I hope they never know the things we know,
and I hope they live