where art collides

We fear the shadows,
not for what lurks there
but for what we might do
if we wore that cloak.

The chilling Vaudeville mask,
fixed in constant mockery,
gives echo to our own hollow laughter,
gives mirror to our cynical eyes.

Behind the opaque glass of bureaucracy
we stand ready to pass judgement,
emboldened to a thousand anonymous noes,
yet troubled as we take our turn in line.

We might stifle a shudder
as the new bill is passed into law
but who would raise a voice
against the promise of security we all crave?

Tomorrow’s breakfast news announces
that we are the silent enemy within,
confirming our suspicions,
and so we nod obediently in guilty approval.

A pen takes pause before
it can confess to the unwritten page,
lest it note down some truth
and leave its author to apologise later.

Then, as each darkened screen comes to life,
relegating shadows to a corner of the room,
a bright young thing appears in High Definition,
insisting that she is heard.

“We have had enough of question time
and doubts that drive us into our neighbours’ homes,
over our colleagues’ shoulders,
merely to attend to our own insecurities.”

Beneath studio lights she continues
“The answers are all here – not there”,
gesturing from around her
toward the panel and their darkening faces.

“If I watch over your shoulder, but from the front
as you watch over mine –
or if we are back to back, even –
how should we ever be defeated?”

“Only if I turn my eyes,
look with suspicion at your heel
and cause you to mistrust my care,
then will we be caught unaware.”

“We were ever connected –
only the medium is new,
and that is poor excuse to warrant disconnection,
promote uncertainty, doubt and division.”

“Our community is stronger than ever,
in size and scope and skill
and we will support each other openly,
without need for dark places and closed doors.”

Applause like a hundred shuttered windows opening,
echoed by many thousand fingers typing,
is signal that a switch
has taken place.

The social networks are set ablaze;
a shared vision begins to form,
of mutual ownership at the speed of light,
rendering private fears into obsolescence.

We fear the shadows,
we act like strangers,
and then the daylight comes.