On my last night in that place, the goddess came.
She came in standard guisea snake
I should have known her right away.
Too close, she was, too close and too intense,
locked tight around the slats of the blind
above my head.
And I was blinded by the sight,
By her nearness, by the surprise.
How could I know she'd show herself so close,
I saw her skinhow new it was
and still I saw just snake,
"Uninvited!" I cried. "Uninvited!
Just go. I'll help you go.
And don't disturb my sleep."
Others came to help, bringing tongs, a bucket
And lots of indignation at the nerve!
And without ceremony, reverence,
or even rudimentary courtesy,
we turfed her out.
We tossed her out the door.
Now we're safe once more.
It wasn't until light of day
the light that brought back courage--
only at that time of second thought
did it come to me.
Only then did I know the gift I'd had,
know the offer made to me,
know what I'd rejected
And now I wait.
Again I wait
determined next time to remember
and to acknowledge
and to take into myself the gift,
the goddess gift.
If ever she comes
(in whatever guise)
if ever she comes to me again.