The Earthworm

That state of being flooded with tiny reminders

“flood of the tiny ones" PC: Reena Kapoor (c)2023. Instagram @1stardusty.

The Earthworm

This past week I met an earthworm

Stubby, still, seeming a little worn out

In a pool, actually on the ledge of a hot tub

At a resort on a windy hill 

amid wild vineyards

He sat here and unmoving 

even as I blocked the sunlight above him

As if waiting for me to come in to enquire

About his presence where he shouldn’t be

I saw the translucent body and hesitated

Should I step in with a worm? 

Not an experience I was looking for

Wiggly, slithery creatures are not

my preferred companions, 

not when I’m seeking calm

not on holiday, not ever actually !

I remember the time,

as (I think) a seven year old 

I’d stepped on a snake, it 

wrapped itself around my foot!

I’d jumped several feet on

to my mother’s lap, 

Yelling for the heavens to fall

My mother hugged me

laughing, her words

The snake’s just as afraid 

of you as you are of him.

That consolation hadn’t helped

I steer clear of such creatures 

But now she’s gone and 

this time I’m listening 

more attentive in grasping

at love crumbs I may have missed

I hesitate. And decide to step in 

What could he do after all?

This little defenseless thing

And maybe I could train myself to be 

a tiny bit more comfortable with 

all that scares me, makes me bolt.

I step in. Tentative steps

watching for sudden moves

But he doesn’t budge, not a shiver

staying put, as if to keep me company.

Both of us basking in the warm water 

Enjoying the blue sky and sunshine 

Him looking up - but he can’t “look” 

Just sensing my presence and the sun

Through his skin, knows he’s not alone?

In that moment we’re companions

for those ephemeral seconds

Then the bubbles start up

The water pours out; for a little

bit I can’t see my fellow tubmate

Then I look he’s fallen to the bottom 

Laying there lifeless, sort of empty

I realize he’s been dead the whole time

A part of me saddened,

wanting to say goodbye

Somehow his presence gave me

Reason to sit with my binding fears

Reason to listen to the many ways

My mother still speaks to me…

###

-Reena | April 2023

This poem came to me a few months ago when I was on a short vacation and came across an earthworm in a hot tub. As I hesitated to join it, a movie went through my head of my childhood fears, and reminders of those who’ve passed but who still speak to me.

I’ve written about grief a lot in the past couple of years, with love and deep gratitude. Grief instructs us like little else can. At the beginning after losing both my parents, I found myself wondering if the grief would ever lessen? The days of loss felt unrecognizable from one to the next. Now, I think I have some answers. The feeling of loss never goes away. But we learn to create a space, a sort of protected compartment in our hearts for it, where we keep it somewhat contained. Life - and others we love - demands it.

For we humans are incredible creatures. We find ways to live with, get along with all kinds of pain. We learn, and I do too. And I feel grateful for it all, for this capacity to carry on despite the loss and perhaps an even greater gratitude for the grief itself, which points to the gifts I was given. I’ve written about how grief is love and that thought is always a comfort.

For the other times, there are these tiny reminders of how the universe conspires to keep us connected to those we love or have ever loved.

Have a wonderful week ahead, dear readers!