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

commence

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.

No.

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.

Play.

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" (www.hiraethpress.com)