Poetry

Ant Nest

Consider life as an ant.

What would you see of the world then?

 

Would you take more notice of the dry, parched grass

that has no bend, just blockades your path and leaves you no shade

from the unexpected sun?

See the browning leaves that may act as boats in those rare puddles,

safe passage across

to that place where

the sweat left by humans as they lie on the ground

permeates into the earth;

 

they try to find peace in a life that attempts to prevent it at every turn.

You don’t mind, you can feast on the litter and wasted food

they leave behind

when they finally go back to their cubes,

hoping that the memory of their break will last them

until the next time.

 

You know more than most about hurdles

and being trodden on by authoritative boots.

It doesn’t stop you, though.

You carry on,

facing every barrier

you come across and finding the best way to pass it.

Always lifting weights greater than yourself.

 

You’re not too proud to ask for help,

in fact

you actively seek it

so as not to get overwhelmed.

 

Yes, consider life as an ant.

Maybe that will change your view.

Poetry

Aunt Maria: A reflection

We mustn’t walk out that door. Not yet, see.

They might still be there. Or even worse, we might.

Keep out of sight. Timing is everything.

Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the rules already.

Tap tap. Hear that noise? It’s her again.

Let’s ignore her. See how she likes it.

Drowned out, background noise.

Like a buzz. A Queen Bee, I should say.

We’re not trapped in her hive anymore.

We can’t be managed.

I feel smug that she knows.

Poetry

Dressing by the fire

The warmth around my shoulders,

soft as flames in the evening,

conceals the sting in my chest.

My jumper soft and safe is no longer,

now only the writhing buzz of bees

trying to make a hive from my emptiness.

But honey – I do not like the taste of it.