Insights from Arthropods

Sometimes all it takes
is another living thing
to ease judgement on myself.

Sometimes it’s
a crawdad
crawling across
slick white granite
next to a river.

Velvet body and jointed legs
skittering on a shining rock
above a crushing waterfall.

I can see where
it will struggle,
where the sides
are too steep to climb.
The swift current,
the easy route one foot over.

How often I act like
I know what’s coming.
Pretend the future
is a language
I know how to speak,
but still, move forward
wary and scared:
just in case, I’ll head in claws first.

What if, like the crawdad
I trusted this tiny inch of sight,
tried to remember that’s
all I’ve ever had.

Originally published in Wild Roof Journal.