Lessons from a Scorpion Encounter

Sometimes life’s smallest moments can carry the biggest lessons. On a routine evening walk a few years ago, a simple run-in with a scorpion taught me about restraint, mercy, and the power of choosing kindness over retaliation.

This poem reflects on that moment, and the ripple effect that can follow when we hold back our sharpest stings.

Dear Scorpion

Evening is the best time to walk, 
the sun retires from scorching;
my shirt feels a little less sticky.
My dog scuffs along, sniffing,
his own form of social media.
I scuff along in my well-worn chappals,
not the wisest choice,
scrolling through my phone. 

The evening in question
melted over the sky, hardening
into oranges, purples, and blues.
Scuff, scuff.
Sniff sniff, scroll. 
When something cold and hard rolled over
the soft, sensitive flesh of my foot. 

My brain tried to place the feeling:
A beetle? A plastic toy? A bottle?
I looked down.
My heart melted,
warm liquid, 
draining to my toes. 

A scorpion 
stood with its stinger raised.
Ready to 
duel if it met my foot again,
in the dead leaves covering our path. 
Do I run or stand my ground?
Both felt wrong. 

So we stood for hours,
seconds, really. 
The harder I stared, 
the more it looked offended 
than armed. 

I chose 
to back away, my eyes on
the insulted creature,
shrinking as I retreated
until it vanished.

It had every right to
strike me with its poison. 
I felt that path  
was my own.

But it chose not to sting me.
The opportunity was easy. 
Maybe it was luck,
or maybe it sensed my fear like its own.
Or maybe it wasn’t in the mood.

Dear scorpion,
I learned something
on that evening walk.
I can choose
not to sting another.  
Swallow the bitterness that would 
rush through blue capillaries, red arteries, 
straight to another’s heart.                                  

I can fade into the twilight,
but still stand guard.
Maybe their venom will return
to where it began,
softening the next hardened heart,
one restrained sting at a time.

Dear scorpion,
if mercy flows this way,
through veins and capillaries,
into oranges, purples, and blues,
maybe this world
needn’t sting so deep.

A Note:
I hope this poem encourages you to pause and choose mercy in your own daily encounters, softening hardened hearts one restrained sting at a time.