This Snake


by Zellie Quin

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 dying 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 find it is no longer

This snake.

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