Shivering Earthworm (Poem)

Shivering Earthworm

Everyday I go for a walk
Often along the same path
Through our wooded neighborhood
But today
My eyes caught 
The sight of a shivering earthworm
Barely it could move a millimeter
Clinging very tightly to 
The asphalt rough terrain
Dragging its shriveled desiccated skin
Basking in pale sunshine
On a chilly autumn morn.

Siva -
What a name?
That which is auspicious 
Anywhere, every-where is 
Encapsulated, contained by Him
He is beyond gender,
Beyond man’s imagination
He is supposed to be
Imminent, eminently present
In eight things – rather embodiments
Earth is one of them

The naked, exposed earthworm
Despite feeling extreme cold
Almost at the end of its life
A brief, harmless 
Purely a benevolent existence
Now lonely, without a friend
Asks only one thing
To feel with its intense desire
Once more, last wish
To embrace the bare rocky
Rough, belly scratching surface
Of earthly path
I admire its pure desire
All desires must be pure in their approach
Then they won’t bring sour feelings
Or utter disappointments in their wake
Its last longing to 
Cling, embrace tightly
The kindliest of all
The only One who
Takes us into His hands
At the time of death

There was a time 
A time when I would wonder
Why people in Indian pilgrim centers
(Why they) cover their dark
Deteriorating bone piercing bodies
With white ash;
Roll over their bellies
Or crawl steps with bruised kneecaps
All the way to a Durga temple
A Siva’s abode
Despite terrible bodily pain
Why? Why they do?
No, I never had the slightest contempt
Or slight towards ‘em
Just I did not understand then
Because I was too stuck (thick) with false rationality
Intuition was missing in me, so too was love

But now I can feel
Sacredness in all human struggles
Desires, failures, and triumphs
Inexplicable holiness pervades
The Earth

Would I be able to
Have the same intensity
Purity of attention
In that final moment
To just reflect on
On only one thing
The vast nothingness
Only on Siva, nothing else
Would I be so fortunate?
If not, 
I submit now, immediately
To That
The source of creation
With a silent bow,
With all the eight limbs
Flat as a stick, horizontally on the floor
I remain in total silence. © by the author 2025