Piranhas

Yes, they smile at you

But then, so do piranhas

The gaze of the dead.

They listen to you

But you might as well not speak

For all it achieves.

You shake proffered hands

But there is no tenderness

In their icy clasp.

You wonder what thoughts

Pass through minds so alien

You want to ‘phone home’:

Like E.T., you feel

Surrounded by a strangeness

You don’t understand.

What seems important

To them means little to you.

The converse is true.

You speak English, too,

Yet you can’t communicate

With humour and love:

Not how you want to.

Instead you offend, it seems -

Their backs are put up.

But you’re not the first

There was One who deserved it

Far less than you do.

One who merited

Not a single sneer or curse

Still they came His way.

One who was blameless

(Which cannot be said of you

Or, of course, of them).

The Pharisees smiled

Just like piranha fish do

The gaze of the dead.

And like piranhas

They know how best to draw blood

Back then, and right now.

Yet He came that we

Might have life, in abundance.

For them - and for you.

Commentary: I wrote this poem in early 2018. The previous few years had been difficult ones for me professionally; unresolved tensions in my workplace were getting worse; and this poem expresses much of my frustration with certain work colleagues. Yes, comparing them to Pharisees (and myself to the persecuted Christ) is somewhat OTT. But describing my detractors as piranhas - that certainly felt (and still feels) accurate. If any of you have ever had a tough time in the work place - or at school - you might identify with this. Anyway, it all came to a head soon after I penned this. I gave notice of my intention to quit, and in June 2018, bade farewell to my job of the previous twenty-two years. Fifteen months later, I have no regrets.