All objects in existence are wildly in love.
—Meister Eckhart
Always, they claw at the world.
They can’t help it. They were given
two pincers and hard, hard shells.
They ripen into harder shells,
their clasp become more powerful.
They hurt more the larger they are.
This does not look to me like love.
I think of Eckhart’s saying as I stand beside the pond.
But my boy, he holds them in his open palm,
lets them pinch his thumb, his eyes
widen in pain, and he gently extracts them,
throws them back. And does it again.
This, now this looks like love, I think,
watching the water for the skitter,
the settling, the mirror of the pond as it stills.
Perhaps what Eckhart meant by, “in love,” is more accurately translated as, “inside love,” or, “within love.” And perchance Finn is so enthralled by the world, being pincered with pain is worth the engagement. Hmmm…. “enthralled,” “engagement.” Maybe ’tis indeed love after all.
The way you start the poem, dwell at least half of it on the details of crawdads before ever introducing Finn, a fine idea. Sets off the Huck Finn-ish tone of the title, sharpens, I think, Finn’s interaction with the beasts. And that closing image of the mirror as it stills, nice!
beautiful words from the finest mommy on the planet. xx