An ant crawled across my arm

The ant

its weight was so faint

lighter even than

a strand of hair falling on skin

I trusted my fingers –

those nerves of unmatched precision –

to lift it alive

and, with the quickest sprint, rush outdoors

to set it free

Whether it could find its tribe

would be up to its own fate

At least, if it got lost, it would be lost in nature

but the moment my fingertip touched it

it began to flee for its life

dashing along my arm

racing over every hair

stepping across tattoos

climbing past bracelet

And even at the scar –

The one from a knife wound that nearly killed me –

it didn’t hesitate

This ant

conveyed to me 

its panic, its resolve, its frenzy,

and its faith

It didn’t understand

my gentleness, my confidence, my maternal instinct,

or my faith.

And so, 

it trusts itself

more than it could ever trust me

 

My fingers

Pecking at my own arm  

pecking harder each time 

faster with each attempt  

until frustration overtook me 

And then  

I ended it

with a single twist

 

(2023)