The Moth and the Candle

Growing up, side by side, neighbourly
Friendships tested and evolved in a shared sense of place
Community and care, comradeship created within
I could call them my brothers and my sisters
They might be the family that I wish I had
But instead they are my friends, my neighbours
My doctor, my dentist, my grocer, my postman
All surrounding us now, then and before
Usual, ordinary, mundane and familiar
You don’t see them for they are nothing to notice

Hellos and goodbyes, casual greetings, brief meetings
No substance or basis, it seems, for hatred
It emerges, unbidden by you but not others
It emerges from the shadows and recesses
The nooks and crannies we successfully forget about
Nothing lives there but something exists nonetheless
A virus, a disease which has power in potentia
Something to be frightened of if it ever gets out

But back to our neighbours, our colleagues, our friends
They have descended, have split, have raged into war
A man gave orders and unaccountably was obeyed
The lines have been drawn and the battle is joined
Which side you are on may depend on your name,
Your skin colour, how far the next town is
Or the shape of the symbol that dangles on your chest
None of which seemed to matter a few weeks ago
But now all has changed and there is no looking back

In the darkness I host a dinner party for the dead
The guests all attend without invite or asking
All etiquette amended by the strictures of war.
The O’Neills ran the bakery down in the village
A nice couple they are, stretched out on my floor
David Feldman, my dentist, always laughing and joking
Will never, it would seem, laugh anymore
And the Obeyu family with their three lovely daughters
Have been butchered and killed and used like whores

And I lie with them, not perpetrator but victim
Our blood runs together, indistinguishable and congealing
A vivid testament to the qualities of the hidden hatred
Which warps and twists us into new shapes entirely
And leaves nothing but bitterness, sorrow and death.
But no lesson is learned, only tragedy lamented
Each action is going to be repeated again
If not here then somewhere else, with different people
Who will know and like each other, more likely than not
And one day all will change, a strong man will emerge
And the circle of friends will be shattered once more