I looked down at the mass of people

and the 54 police vans

and the riot cops charging,

trying to provoke a reaction.

.

It became inconceivable

that each of these beings

had a life

and an identity

and thoughts

and feelings

when they had all just become a mass,

a whole other organism

undulating rhythmically.

.

I became a voyeur

of what was happening down there,

watching the movement

of different forces against each other,

the ebb and flow,

followed by clashing and crashing,

making space,

filling.

.

It became an act in a play I could step in or out of.

I still maintained that choice.

.

I couldn’t see us and them as different any more;

so strange to feel removed from who was oppresser

and who was oppressed;

from the politics

and the pain

and the hatred

and the passion

and whatever else was down there;

.

It all became grains of sand

whirling in water,

till the only difference I could feel

was between those

who have the possibility

of stepping off the stage

and out of the play,

.

and those who don’t.