The Ant*

ant on fingertip

Let it go back to the anthill. 

If it brushes inattentively against your fingers
climbs them
and daydreams
in the furrows of your hand,
don’t chase it away or squash it. 

Let it go back, as best it can, to the anthill.
Guide it to where it belongs. 

Surely the others, those smart-asses, will make fun
of its new habits,
of its stubborn disorientation.

Let it go back, if it can, to the anthill,
even though it carries no shred of a leaf
on its ant’s back.

Don’t kill it. There, others,
but not many, will welcome it
and find it a place in the crowd.

Maybe it
(just like you in the poem)
confuses, without arrogance,
the mystery of the world
with the palm of your hand.

- by Arturo Gutiérrez Plaza, translated by Arthur Dixon

* I found this poem using one of our databases, Literature Resource Center.  What will you find?

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