For a Moment I Was God

There is an ant on the wall,

Tiny black and probably hungry.

It crawled past my feet as I returned from the mailbox,

Lucky in its timing so as not to be squashed by the door or by feet.

It strayed just a bit too far from its colony.

Distracted by smells it was not familiar with,

It ventured inside.

It will not be leaving.

I see the dark speck on the white wall.

It moves.

It’s not such a strange occurrence;

It’s summer after all.

I pluck a tissue from the nearby box and I move to the wall.

And for a moment I am god.

As I pinch the little insect between two tissue-covered fingers

I lift it from the wall.

My fingers squeeze together.

I hear a soft crunch as the little thing is pressed flat and unmoving.

The tissue is crumpled and discarded.

I don’t even peak at the tiny life I took

Because it was only an ant,

Oblivious and small

Like I must be to them.

So for a moment I was god.