Monday, January 17, 2011

Courting the Viper

Baba Gulabgir I pray to you:
teach me the magic
of the serpent pot.

The vipers they rise
swaying with lies and manipulations
on muscular stalk,
fastening cold black eyes
on me.

Practiced strikes land upon my flesh
and eat into my soul.

Necroses and bloodletting
as scarlet
pairs of liquid beads -

Droplets of my precious
personed being.

The Wounded One screams
in pain as the toxins circulate
and madden.

Though sitting on my cushion,
I am unsettled by rage
and visions
of retaliatory get-evenings.

Will the body still
writhe when severed
from the head?

I struggle to find my way
out of conflict with
integrity –
but like a rodent that is
already halfway down
the elongated stomach.


I cannot, will not,
embrace a peace
that is declared
by my willing victimhood.

Patiently waiting for me to finally
take a breath,

the Guru gently says:

“Lift your flute.


Court the venomous snakes
with Life’s most
rapturous music.

Dear One,

It is the alchemy of love
that transforms poison
into medicine.”

© 2011-2013/Jamie K. Reaser
Published in "Note to Self: Poems for Changing the World from the Inside Out" (

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