ANTS TO THE POISON

ANTS TO THE POISON

“Go to the ant, O sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise.”   Proverbs 6:6

                “I don’t know, dudes; this stuff tastes funny” “Oh, don’t be such a ‘panties anty’ – you always act like such a douche…”  “No, just look around!  Some of the guys are dropping like flies”  “They’ll be o.k. after they sleep it off”  “Some of them have been wallowing around for quite a while; and all of us seem to be moving more slowly?”  “You’re nuts!  This stuff is great, and there’s plenty for all of us; let’s take some bake to the mound.”

                They keep coming!  Three traps nearly full of them.  And, they are carrying it back to their home to share with the ants there.  Some people call them “piss ants” because they once were used to detect sugar in the urine of possible diabetics.  (they replaced human taste-testers?!  Really!)  But, the poison must have something sweet in it?!  One by one they are dying, thankfully.  Why can’t they see the dead ones floating in the poisonous, viscous liquid?  But, they walk over dead and dying brothers to get to what is killing others all around them.

                What does the Snake put in our traps?  Are we any smarter?  What are we sipping?  Gulping?  Somehow, we convince ourselves that “it” is good, if not really what we want.  It tastes sweet, but leaves a bitter aftertaste and an upset stomach.  And, it eats away at us from within, slowly, but surely.

                “…the ants go marching  one by one …”

Proverbs 6:6-8 (NIV)

6   Go to the ant, you sluggard;

    consider its ways and be wise!

7   It has no commander,

    no overseer or ruler,

8  yet it stores its provisions in summer

    and gathers its food at harvest.

She Cuts Herself!

She Cuts Herself!

          At first she brooded sullenly, feeling backed into a corner, away from the light of day and the joy of laughter.  Frustration, futility, hopelessness, then anger, vengeance, violence took over her mind.  She stepped back, shocked, briefly; but then it all turned inward.  This is how she got here.  He really cut her.

Jack and George just gave her a headache.  What would reassure her that she was still alive?  Her mother’s words just fell on deaf ears.  She could not even feel the pain anymore.  It started with a nagging paper cut!  Most of the new stimuli were hidden.  But, maybe she wanted to be found out?

“But, I bleed!  That proves I am.”  The excitement did not last.  She could pretend the pain is pleasure.  Such a liar!  She almost believes it, though.  But, I can remember real love.  The cuts are not caresses.  But what else do I have.  She does not like what she sees in the mirror.   And, the blues bring on the blood-letting.  In goes the gloom, and out comes the razor.

At a coffee-shop, from across the room, comes a tender glance.  “But, surely he knows how messed-up I am?!”  She looks back, and he’s gone.  She exits to the “ladies” room and opens her purse.  “Dammit, I have done it again!”  She unrolls the t.p. to stop the bleeding.  She hates herself.  Surely, everybody else does, also?!  People stare at her leaving.  “You people have no idea ... !!”

Nobody wants me.  Nobody needs me.  They will not use me, again.  I’ll make sure of that.  The scars will repel them.  I may slash a big one -- across my face?!  Everybody sucks.

Mama, can you hear me?  Don’t hang up.  I need to talk to you.  It … is … no … good.  Can I, please, come home?  I miss you, so much.

God, help us!