Lumbricus Terrestris by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

On a day when the world is weighty,
dark and dense with need, 
I want to be the earthworm
that gives itself over to tunneling,
its every movement an act 
of bringing spaciousness.
And when minutes feel crushed by urgency, 
I want to meet the world wormlike,
which is to say grounded, 
consistent, even slow.
No matter how desperate the situation,
the worm does not tunnel faster
nor burrow more. 
It knows it can take decades
to build fine soil. 
To whatever is compacted,
the worm offers its good worm work,
quietly bringing porosity 
to what is trodden, compressed. 
So often, in my rush to repair, 
I end up exhausted. 
Let my gift to the world be 
my constancy, a devotion to openness,
my willingness to be with what is. 
Let my gift to myself be patience
as I tend what is dense and dark.