Like the ant
whose home has been destroyed
by molten metal
and whose brothers
have been caught by the sticky tongue of the pangolin,
or the termite,
whose fortress of rock-hard mud
has been ripped apart
by the sickle claws
of the ravening sloth bear, but nevertheless has survived,
I too rebuild my life
after devastation.
Slowly.
Bit by bit.
Painstakingly slowly.
Painfully slowly.
But assuredly.
I build a deeper hole,
a stronger fortress
a higher wall;
I find new brothers
and sisters and daughters,
and queens and princesses;
I employ new workers and drones and soldiers.
I slowly build a new nest
for my family
and for my final years.
It may be attacked –
But my family will survive –
And the future is theirs.
C. Tim Taylor 2018