Betrayal

Judas, Brutus, or the parasitoid wasp—deception, conspiracy, or abduction. Which is worse? Betrayal stings regardless of weapon. Lies, schemes, or ovipositors—the parasitoid wasp prefers the latter, its blade a needle, its violence a silent invasion.

The parasitoid wasp employs its antennae like a compass, directing them towards the soft flesh of the caterpillar, the warmth of its life. The parasitoid wasp exploits the caterpillar’s softest features, its natural tenderness. Piercing the caterpillar skin, the wasp deposits its eggs. The caterpillar eats and it sleeps, ignorant to the fact that it is fueling more than just itself, but baby wasps, a happy, hungry family. 

For the young to meet the light of day, they must burst from their unconsenting mother. The caterpillar feels it all. Pain, but no confusion. There is nothing to be confused about when you know nothing. Soon, their feelings, too, become nothing. Death. Torn from the delicious leaves, their green garden of Eden, into the ether.  

The caterpillar’s contract of life was violated. The conditions never disclosed this anguish. At least that’s what I thought, until I read the fine print.

God is everything. God is perfect. If you find yourself asking ‘Why?’ —the answer is God.

Can the soon-to-be monarch, or the cabbage looper, see their killer as necessary, even good? To call them a killer captures only a fraction of the matter. Can the good-hearted caterpillar, who was injected with eggs of another species, who benevolently provided shelter and nutrients to its enemy’s offspring, who was destroyed and eaten by the bodies it protected, see that the answer is clear? That the answer is God? 

You’ll have to ask a caterpillar:

In the beginning, it was simple

A life of leaves and hunger—

Light and digestion. No pain,

Just presence with my feast

Inching through the shrubs,

I knew nothing but blurs—

Movement, no sense of threat,

Soft. Oblivious to the press

Of an ovipositor in my flesh. 

Welcome: eggs of the wasp.

I was injected and unknowing,

Nurturing and unwilling 

But the thing about being soft is

You always want to believe: Good

is the way of the many creatures 

Inhabiting this garden of green 

So even when, inside me sat the eggs

Of a creature wishing me death,                       

I crawled through the oily leaves 

In sheer presence of God’s kingdom

For though my body was compromised,

My soul descended from a gold wire.

Hunger was endless, sleep was sinking

My bounty of life was amplified 

Crawling legs emerging within,

Did not blind my blurry vision,

For as a caterpillar, nothing is clear

But the gift of time in the garden. 

Thank you, God, for this body,

For the holy feast of your garden

Betrayal is only real in Babylon,

In the Kingdom, all is perfect. 

I love you, caterpillar. For never cursing the name of your captor. You do not feed into the narrative that they have formed, nor do you acknowledge what has been cast against you. You have shown me the way. To revel in Earth’s bounty. To continue forging your own path in the way you know how, even if it is just inching along the leaves. 

I love you, parasitoid wasp. Yes, even you. What a dutiful mother you are! You are willing to go to the extremes of this planet to ensure your babies survive. If the method of your conception was performed by humans, nobody would see a problem. You would be applauded for your fierce motherly instincts. I applaud you. Your dedication to caring should be taught in universal lectures. 

And to my betrayer, with your ovipositor slicing me open… I love you. I love you for teaching me what it means to survive. For tearing down my world and my support. Without you, I would have never known what it was like to emerge from the fire. When your eggs began to sprout, I continued inching along my leaves, basking in the sun’s eternal hug. Never before had I enjoyed the paradise of my home, never had I tasted the luscious fruits around me.

In the darkest night of your betrayal, my trembling lips whispered: ‘Why?’ 

And in God’s timing, the moon shone brighter than ever before, its rays pierced your endless shadow.

It was perfect.