The ant's prayer

Watermark I was an empty riverbed uncut stone and haphazard rock I was paper crumpled and creased A tree with hunched shoulders and anemic roots. Coursing through my veins angry wars and confused seahorses Rusting shipwrecks and unclaimed treasure.

You were the water chilled and distilled Channeled Stolen when the yeti slept, Polishing pliant stone and directing the rocks To territory chartered and boundaries defined.

I have known the childish excitement of a wakened river I have tasted nirvana papered apricots And grown taller in your shadow. Where, once, I was a guardian of wasps, I have become a farmer of butterflies.

You are the watermark on my ricepaper soul The dateline of my wayward mind And the sextant Charting proximity To my monocled God.

New migrant It was not escape and it was not freedom the pouch of stemcells unnoticed at customs my currency of negotiation I was oppressed and an oppressor tetrapack crumpled emotions dustbinned and years later recycled I no longer bartered my expertise for reward my morality was not tax deductible and my love had no caveats undirected and scattered on soil that was not mapped unexpecting and receiving more than I deserved I finally learnt to measure in sensations. The ant's prayer Ants firewalking over breathless stones Burntcherry blur scurrying into labyrinths As Angels of innocence cast Imperfect shadows God idioms are intoned Perfunctory As morning ablutions Disciples invoking pacts of compromise Offering souls and solutions Silent in their conspiracy A shortcut to Nirvana In dredged tantric mud.