an earthworm's tale

Poetry | Noonherd

when the boy swallowed dirt and his mother ordered him to open his mouth to spit it out,

the earthworms had something to say. to an earthworm, dirt is 

not dirty—it is every need fulfilled before it is voiced.

the sun is not of want, and neither are the stars that humans speak so fondly of.

earthworms don't see the appeal. an earthworm is amazed by warm mud,

by supple stalk, by darkness and death and life indiscriminate. 

and that was what the boy thought too. when he opened his mouth, cosmos

shone from the back of his throat. constellations twinkled in his teeth.

the sun knew its place. it was everything and everything and everything all at once. 

somewhere in there,

an earthworm burrowed further into the ground, softer still,

feeling the universe's tender touch. 

*When Krishna, an avatar of Maha Vishnu, the supreme protector, was but a small child, he was accused of eating soil. His mother told him to open his mouth, and she saw the entire cosmos and universe, the infinite truth, within her son's mouth. She was so overcome by herself and was confused and afraid. Krishna then spread his magic illusion and removed her memory of what had happened, and she took him into her arms.