God Bless the Ants

God Bless the Ants

By Tony DeLorger © 2011

Frankly, I tread on ants.

Not deliberately,

they find themselves under my feet,

alone and lifeless.

I feel guilt for having taken a life,

having turned a vibrant organism

into a small black pancake.

But what can I do?

Is it suicide,

or simply a failed escape,

from a gargantuan catastrophe?

What guides the poor ant to such an end?

What role do I play in this tragedy,

apart from being the executioner?

Am I the collector of ant souls,

the arbiter of a justice I am not aware?

Is the ant any less meaningful than I,

just because of stature?

Does my image appear on a wanted poster,

hung deep in an ant nest,

me, the nemesis of all life.

I used to dance around these creatures,

my steps like a drunken fool,

weaving and leaping like a lune.

The more I did it, the more ants I killed,

and the more I realised I was no solution.

I wonder when judgement day comes,

shall I have to atone for my murderous ways,

my indiscriminate killings?

Perhaps my soul will be cancelled out

by all those tiny souls I have taken.

Maybe I shall spend eternity

in a black void of anguish,

tormented by giant ants bent on revenge.

God bless ants; I apologise for my incompetence.

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