© 2016 JOHN K MCILWAIN.

Photo Credit: Unknown

 

The White Snake

 

In the dream the White Snake came,

Coiling and uncoiling

About my feet,

Powerful and silent,

Until at last she rose,

As tall as me with gaping mouth,

Tongue, teeth and fangs,

Turning to devour me.

 

I awoke in terror,

Whimpering in fear.

What did she seek?

Who did she seek?

 

Since that night years ago

Nothing has been the same.

A carapace is peeling back,

Slow shedding of dead skin,

Exposing a soft and opening heart,

Revealing wounds that one by one,

Are slowly healed.

 

Life opening to three worlds,

And spirits of the six directions;

To ancestors, plants, and animals;

The ones that wait for us,

Call out for us to listen and to heed

Ancient wisdoms that we’ve forgotten.

 

They prod and taunt us,

Fierce protectors and kindly guides,

Steering us from safety and the shore

Into dark of night, the unexplored,

That we might be that which we are,

Beings shimmering in the void,

Knowing ourselves at last,

Swallowed whole by the Snake of our devotion,

The Serpent of our creation.