This Snake
This snake
Is tired of dragging itself through the dirt
Tired of all the sacrificial victims it has swallowed and crushed
Tired of being cold
Tired of its small snake heart
This snake is drowning and
Like a stray worm
Inches and rolls and arches and drags itself
Toward higher ground
Forever shedding former skins
But a pond reflects
And it sees itself yet ever the snake.
In this journey toward redemption
There is only One who can
Change that which cannot remake itself
The One who can change
Bread and wine into His flesh and blood
Only through Him will this snake ever find it is no longer
This snake.
Michele Marie
