Around and about (VIII)

Moth (Photo by Rhian Thomas)

A moth-human encounter

In front of me, a moth flutters on the wall of a windowless room, inside what I call ‘my home’.

“Hello moth”, I say. 

“Would you like me to save you?

Would you like me to gently move you to the outdoors?

To be in the fresh air?

Or is this where you’d prefer to be?

Are you happy just where you are?

If I move you, might you be screaming at me, in a volume and tone beyond the limits of my ears: “What are you doing, human?  Where are you taking me?  Nooooooooo, don’t put me back out there… I want to stay here!”

It is the dilemma of making a choice on another soul’s behalf, without their consent.

Just how much should I interfere in that other soul’s life?

Even with good intent.

* * *

I am faced once again with my lack of language ability.

Speaking ‘Moth’ is not one of my talents.

And I don’t know what moth this is or the language it speaks.

Does each species of moth have a different language?

Do they, like us humans, each have a unique, personal language, as well as common shared ones?

Do all moths automatically understand one another?

Do other species speak ‘Moth’?

* * *

I speak, but I do not expect to hear a reply. 

Maybe I need to learn to listen more?

 * * *

The moth doesn’t know that this is ‘my home’.  

It’s just another space on the planet.

I’m happy to share.

There’s room for both of us.

* * *

“I wonder how much of your life remains?”, I ask.

“I cannot bear the thought of you being trapped.

What if you spend your last hours – I know you probably don’t think in terms of ‘human hours’ – in a place you want to escape from?

And I could have made a difference.”

* * *

I get up and open the nearest window in an adjoining room.

An escape route.

In case it is needed.

“There’s a window next door that’s open”, I say.

“Just in case you want to go.

I’ll leave the choice up to you.”

* * * 

I wonder what the moth thinks of me?

* * *