XXXVIII

Enough! Enough! Enough!
Somehow I have been stunn'd. Stand back!
Give me a little time beyond my cuff'd head, slumbers, dreams, gaping,
I discover myself on the verge of a usual mistake.

That I could forget the mockers and insults!
That I could forget the trickling tears and the blows of the bludgeons and hammers!
That I could look with a separate look on my crucifixion and bloody crowning.

I remember now,
I resume the overstaid fraction,
The grave of the rock multiplies what has been confined to it, or to any graves,
Corpses rise, gashes heal, fastenings roll from me.

(...)

Walt Whitman
in Song of Myself