The Pillar & Snake & Time
A woman of the town knelt before me:
“Mysterious man, whose flute charms the snake,
For me, will you this obscene art forsake?”
She asked her question with beguiling voice—
Confused, I wondered and pondered the choice.
Should I cease to charm the snake of the soul?
Not master its will and tame myself whole?
What was obscene?
“How better can I be?”
I asked. She smiled, dropping her set of keys.
“I live by deceiving the world with lies,”
She whispered, hand upon heart, and with sighs.
She looked into my eyes, as if to please.
I caught the thief’s hand. “From you I won’t hide,
For I am humble and a slave to—Pride!”
I let slip her small hand, stunned by her will;
While the poisonous serpent I had tamed
Drew forth from its chute and—struck—vengeance claimed:
Burying its fangs in my thigh, I cried out.
The woman broke my flute, muffled my shout.
“Begone, you queer madman. Begone, I say.
Never again haunt this street—night or day.”
She grasped her keys. The snake I grasped to kill.
Laughing, out of my basket coins she chose.
My strength was spent strangling the serpent’s life
While venom seeped swiftly and, deadly knife,
Sped within my heart’s chambers: my blood froze.
Police arrived as I lost my senses;
She spun a tale and stole my defenses.
Who would be my advocate without pay,
Charged with assault and attempted rape,
And held behind bars, as if to escape?
Bereft so swiftly of my way’s delight,
Forlorn, I cherished memory’s sight:
Recalling how crowds had flocked to my song,
All the souls I had charmed—how? What was wrong?
And her? When? My thoughts no pain could allay.
Slowly the justice of the town commenced:
Her accusations I read, disbelieved.
How futile were my denials! I grieved
How falsely my soul’s song she recompensed.
Before the trial came a visitor,
The insidious one, my tormentor.
I stared straight ahead in stony silence.
She smiled, as if amused, and pretended
To be frightened of me. She intended
To gall my helplessness I knew—I knew!
Her pleasant airs ceased, my eyes her own drew
Into a cold, loveless chamber—her soul.
Words which passed her red lips never were whole;
Each was twisted from its meaning and sense.
She was dressed in black and her eyes were veiled.
“You look much stronger, better than I feared.
I admire you, you know. How you’ve endeared
Yourself to so many—how you’ve prevailed!”
She flattered and cajoled, while I hated.
How lonely I felt! She seemed elated.
“Your secrets I know. None better than me.”
She spoke and dropped her eyes—oh, so humble!
Laughter I restrained—my speech would stumble—
My own proud thoughts with her selfishness clashed:
I could not account how her strength so abashed
My faith and my trust in love eternal.
Pride I surrendered—then—came renewal:
The vision of my heart yet held the key!
“Secrets you suspect yet can never find.
Your understanding your lies entangle;
Love’s own selfless innocence you’d strangle.”
“You pathetic slave,” she hissed,” Sex is mine!”
She laughed falsely and then called for a guard.
Casually she sauntered through the yard.
“That’s your accuser?” The guard chuckled.
“Woman with that ‘don’t touch me’ attitude:
Sweet as honey, right? Then nasty and rude?”
I kept silent as we walked to the cell;
He locked me in with her lingering spell:
“Do whatever she wants—that’s my advice.
Man may have the tool—woman’s got the vice.”
He strode out, chuckling. My lock buckled.
That night I fought in sleep a maelstrom:
All my strength, my will—all helpless. Then I
Woke, and a soft, ghostly voice whispered,
“Try—
Try! Resist not evil. Seek Heaven’s Kingdom.”
What wisdom was this? What angel? Despair?
Soon I sat at trial: with hope—aware.
With her tale she bewitched jury and judge:
How she had heard of me, had come to see
A snake be charmed with flute– “enchantingly.”
“But he is a charlatan, did you know?
It’s very simple, a queer puppet show.”
She asserted I subtly used my feet
To make a dead snake rise: under my “sheet”
A string round my toe, pulled, the snake would nudge
Up out of the basket and sway. “When I
Laughed at him, he grew angry and then bold.
He tried to … but I broke free from his hold.”
She left the stand, choking, as if to cry.
The court advocate presented my plea:
“No contest.” Pride’s mistress glared hard at me.
Proof of the venomous bite on my thigh
I might have revealed, called forth a doctor,
Police, several witnesses, and more—
Yet dispute itself was at her command.
I chose to trust in Truth’s merciful hand.
Later, locked up, I felt I had won the war—
All the living Truth was mine to adore,
While she would rot in a foul, futile lie.
And years I endured, behind bars, with prayer,
With hopes, with faith, with dreams. Each day’s insults
Seared my pride and innumerable faults:
Heartfelt charity became mine to share
With lost villains and thieves, my new brothers;
Day by day, our days became each other’s.
When I left prison, little joy I felt,
Possessing a somber faith beyond doubt.
High on the rooftops I wanted to shout:
“Hear! All the world is a lie—it hates Truth!”
With thoughts, yes, sharper than the serpent’s tooth.
“CONVICT” I felt branded on my forehead;
Aching with tension, I walked slowly ahead
To the house where I had been told she dwelt:
On the sidewalk I knelt and drew with chalk
A pillar and snake, and words in riddle:
“I, a pillar—you, a snake, an idol.
Alone, in a desert cave, I will talk.”
I left the town in haste. I ran, I fled,
To the great, lonely expanse … as if dead.
Beneath a ledge in a cave I contrived
My home. Goats and a garden behind rocks,
Peanut bushes, a spring, honey-filled crocks,
Were the staples with which I kept alive.
My company was nature’s busy hive:
Birds, bugs, snakes, rodents; breezes, rains, frosts, warmth.
The motion of the stars, the moon’s changing month,
Tutored me how nature itself revived.
I attended to her, to the crickets,
To a cloud shading the sun, to the sound
Of ants or mice burrowing underground.
One day my goats hid in thorny thickets;
The meaning I pondered, as I did all,
In prayer. Subtle, comic beasts. Then a call:
“Snake man!” An insolent voice from the ledge.
“You there. Come up here.” One proud of acting
An idiot. Thus, I would do nothing
To help him become more the idiot.
Educate him? To refrain I dared not.
I went in the cave round its deep recess,
Began a fire and thought how to impress
The intruder. To TRUTH I made my pledge.
In an hour’s time he would make his way down;
I thought to adorn with icons of fear
The cave’s rude walls and startlingly appear,
Abrupt in the fire’s shadows’ glinting gown,
Muttering weird, oracular nonsense.
“No, better to trust the angel’s defense.”
“Come on out! Where are you?” I ceased my prayers
And came forward to the cave mouth’s entrance.
“You. What were you doing? What were those chants?
What’s that I see in there––by the firelight?”
“Why do you ask? From superstitious fright?
I keep a fire lit for light, warmth, and food;
Like all else, kept in hand, the flame is good.”
I beckoned him in, being one who shares
All that he has with a stranger and guest;
I turned away. He hit me with brute force,
Bound my hands tightly, dragged me to his horse.
This violent man, dumb slave of her quest,
Forced me to ride, with my hands tied. He led,
He thought, and I, captive, so roped, followed.
I was brought before the woman, the snake,
A far cry from she who was once my nurse,
The desert tribeswoman who healed my curse
When I was confused and wandered on streets,
Homeless, bereft, wrapped in a beggars’ sheets.
Slyly she appeared, adorned with pride’s wealth:
Her dark arts gulled men with their lower health;
For her pleasures, men would their faith forsake.
Her fell secrets were then veiled from my sight.
I was shoved on my knees before her chair.
“How pretty! A sight of tragic despair.
You must learn to eat, grovel, as dogs might.”
She ordered her servant out of the room.
“Snake charmer ... I dreamt of you ... as a groom.
Dreams are for fools and for madmen like you:
Pride’s real desires you’re afraid to pursue.
Now, you once robbed me of one of my slaves,
Who possessed the sumptuous wealth my heart craves.
He heard your music and saw your snake act—
Then on I could–well, not make him ... react.
So that’s why I foiled that snake-charmer scheme.”
She eyed me with cold contempt. Her servant
Returned. She took out a ring, then ordered
Me to kiss. I prayed and I surrendered
My soul to the God of the Pillar. Then
She spit on me, unmoving. Finally,
She left, incensed with her futility.
The servant watched her leave, glancing at me.
He kicked me viciously and ran after
His vicious mistress. I climbed a rafter
And squirmed out through a gable’s small window:
Fearful, I prayed, “Lord God Almighty show
Me an escape.” I climbed the roof–over–
The top, unseen from the street. But what cover
If the servant came after me? How free
Was I? Then I heard a window open.
I heard him climb out; I quietly moved
To a chimney, climbed in, held on—shoved
My knees tightly up and wedged myself—then
I heard clambering on top of the roof;
Fingers couldn’t be seen as my presence’s proof.
How I ached in the flue yet dared not groan.
I listened to him shout, yelling a name.
He stayed there too long—too long! I could fall,
“Please Lord God save me–I will be your slave,
Your donkey, Your snake!” The man’s shadow gave
Me … a catch of despair … as he passed by.
Long minute later, I lifted hands high;
I pulled up and wiggled out past the stone.
I crouched beside the chimney and waited;
I waited until dusk, perched like a bird.
Perched, I heard in drowsy spirit the Word:
Know you are saved—for My joy created.
I drew wide-awake. My spirit felt calm.
A tree I must see—the desert’s green palm!
Like a hunting cat, crawling down the ledge,
I slunk slowly down to the gutter’s rail:
As I swung down, I loosed shingles of shale,
Then let go and dropped to a balcony—
She heard me and shrieked, yet came out boldly:
“Police! A thief! Help us! A thief at night!”
She roused the neighbors with her voice’s fright.
As I fled through the streets, I made a pledge:
“God of the Pillar, I will help You crush
This serpent’s strength! Your glory I will serve!”
I fled from the town with committed nerve.
Deep in the desert I resolved to push
In search of the tent-dwelling shepherd tribe—
To them I would her wickedness describe.
Exhausted and thirsty, far from the town,
I lay down in a wedge of rocks and fell
Quickly asleep into a dream’s deep spell:
I saw the pillar my soul never left,
The thorny hedge, and beyond a cliff’s cleft
Whereon a broad eagle, majestic, serene,
Watched keen-eyed over the pillar’s demesne.
Golden his head, alert; wings golden-brown
He spread wide in strength, and a hiss I heard
Close by, loudly—my senses taut with fear—
Opening my eyes to behold a near
Snake, hissing its forked, flitting tongue. What bird
Pounced on the serpent? Vehement struggle
Of twisting, turbulent strength—a gurgle
In my own throat as I watched. An eagle
Pinioned, nipped the snake and leapt, never caught
By the fangs or the coils, electric-fraught,
Beating the air and earth in swerving ess.
The thick, twisting snake fought less, less, and less.
Without loss of its fatal, final grip,
The eagle spread its broad wings. With a rip
Through the air it leapt and flew, the dangle
Of snake carried away. So was my dream
Double-charged with reality! I shook
With the omen. Numb, my thirst in a brook
I quenched and resolved to follow its stream
Up a hillside’s height to where it began;
From where I could the yearned-for-desert scan.
As I made my way through forest and brush,
I recalled leaping off the woman’s porch,
Catching sights of a bright, festive torch,
Of ornate chambers. In remembrance
Of more clues, of voices hushed and odd dance
Music played unintermittently,
Of men walking through the gate hurriedly,
The woman’s base trade hit me in a flush—
As I stepped up to where a view expands:
On the ridge height on an outcropping
Of marble, like what I saw protruding
Amid still, undulating, endless sands;
The oases and grasslands where hidden
Were herds, tribes, shepherds, women and children.
“She is a whore of whores, pathetic, vile!
Enslaving weak souls, seducing their ken–
Ruining the lives of sad, sick, senseless men!”
I cried in wrath. Then an arrow
Flew past my ear, struck my brash courage low.
Onto the ground, I squirmed behind a rock,
While up and around winged, rose birds in flock.
“Ass!” a hunter cursed. “I missed my bird–while
You ... with your ... crazy ... pontifications.”
He climbed up for his arrow–and for no bird.
But shortly my hopes and hunger he cured:
My hunger with his salted provisions;
My hopes with knowledge of the tribesmen’s trade:
When, how, and where they traveled. Plans I made.
“What do you plan to eat—if I may ask—
Or drink? You’ll need provisions on your ‘quest.’”
He had listened to me at length attest
To the woman’s ill, deceitful power.
I told him he came at a timely hour,
That on the path of virtue sustenance
Was never withheld—divine providence
Served the good. I took a sip from his flask.
“Hell, you can stay with me. I’ll be your guide.
I’ve wandered these lands for years. You know,
On your own, you’d probably die. And now ...
Stranger. I’m partial to whores–I’ll confide–
On the right occasion.” Could I protest?
I said naught—then asked which way would be best.
Together we hiked into the desert:
He hunted for game while I scoured the brush
For edible berries and roots. The crush
Of the desert sun’s heat forced us to walk
At night and sleep at day. Sometimes our talk
Returned to my first vision of the snake
Round the pillar, but no sense could I make
Of my life before. My thoughts would revert
To a water jug as the beginning
Of my present life and society.
“And you think that you know reality?”
The hunter scoffed, bemused, while aching
For food and comfort and women. He tried
To be patient. One sultry day he cried:
“It does not matter, fool, for evermore!
Your wisdom is nonsense—everyone lives
On pride and humility. Man’s life thrives
With both, with each becoming the other—
You crush a serpent, you crush your brother!”
The sun had risen, my sprit’s strength fell;
His words seemed to me the wisdom of hell:
If the truth were so, what could I adore?
I spoke not. Later I yearned in my sleep:
A Voice first. Doves, the pillar, flew around.
“WHO AM I?” In dream I rose from the ground.
“WHO AM I?” No answer could be so deep
Until HE WHO ASKED answered within me:
“YOU WHO ARE.” I awoke. All I could see:
The night’s bright stars cast in infinitude
By the loving hand of the Creator;
My soul lifted to heaven’s bright theater.
I knelt on my knees and raised my hands high:
“O THOU Who has spoken to me, be THOU by
Me everywhere. Let me be Your servant.”
A falling star through the heavens aslant
Streamed fiercely. I bowed down in homage rude,
Saying, “Serve HIM. Serve HIM. Serve HIM.” I rose
And looked for my guide—in vain. He had left
Me on my own. But I was not bereft,
I knew. For HE whom I would serve would choose
As I chose, guiding my steps through the waste.
Thence, I vowed to keep myself ever chaste:
A witness to His Love, evermore pure,
Evermore real, ever more creative
Than man’s mere semblance—in HIM would I thrive.
Alone in the desert I saw myself
As His pillar, as a source of real wealth:
True and upright amid man’s faithlessness,
Mid deceit, futility, mindlessness;
With HE WHO IS, I would surely prosper.
But where was I? Lost. Lost in a desert.
Were my own words mocking me? To my knees
I sank, surrendering my self.
“Lord, please,
Be merciful. Without You, I ... subvert
All divine graces—be near, shepherd me!”
Far off I could a green, desert palm see.
I made my way to the majestic tree
And quenched my thirst in a purling spring’s pool
Whose waters arose then sank away, cool
To the lips of a thirsty man. I prayed
Through the night and through the morning. I stayed:
The spring pool would be a destination
In any shepherd’s peregrination;
Men’s and beasts’ prints were all around to see,
But not my guide’s or whether he’d passed by.
I wondered how his human reasoning
Accorded with the Eternal Being.
I let it go with a shudder and sigh,
Aware that the Almighty would never
Allow man’s reason HIMSELF to sever
Into an independent principle,
And be ignored without sad consequence.
How I yearned to strengthen my dependence!
Below a wide, palm branch I fell asleep …
“Open your eyes, little shepherd.” A deep,
Gentle voice called and stirred my soul to wake:
A beauteous woman knelt by a lake,
Dreamily watching the water’s ripple.
I tried to approach her, but as I moved
My feet ached—blistering scabs cracked my skin;
My hands were clenched, and the nails palms stuck in.
I tried to call out—her, I knew I loved—
Falling forward onto the ground, I moaned—
Could she have heard? I hoped. Loudly I groaned.
She came and knelt beside me, kissing me,
Licking my face—I awoke. A dog’s tongue
Flustered my senses—a sharp whistle wrung
Him away to his master—a shepherd.
Then I was saved—not lost—my prayer was heard!
But that dream—the woman! I laughed aloud:
A heavenly warning to be not proud!
The lesson I’d heed: I knelt for mercy.
The shepherd recognized me from past years—
He smiled and then laughed. Before my nose
He pretended to dangle a dead mouse,
Laughing then until he was close to tears.
He offered me his flask and patted me
On the back after my first swig with glee.
As I looked into his dark, smiling face,
I remembered how open and honest
His people were—and I realized how blest.
The poor shepherd fed me charitably,
Sharing his meager rice cakes happily;
We stayed beneath the tree that day and night;
Then I trekked out with him, trusting his sight,
To a busy border town and marketplace.
He sold his herd there for coins of the realm;
He bought a cart, filled it with odds and ends:
Trinkets, pans, oils, chisels and blades. His friends
Greeted us smiling. Later, with sharp qualm
I watched as he smoked a hookah’s leaf-cube,
Inhaling blue, thick, pungent fumes by tube.
He became dumb, swathed in dreams narcotic.
I, too, became touched in the smoky lair
With the viscous vapors entwining all the air.
Pondering anew the morning’s vision,
I perceived divine, gentle derision
For becoming so enamored at once
With a graceful, feminine mirage. Dunce!
Was chastity’s vow for a lunatic?
When so easily the vow’s devotion
Is lost in dream? A little dancing flame
In the merchant’s fireplace rebuked my shame,
With its heat, smoke, and light’s transformation
Of wood. How else would HE purify me?
Could a dancing maiden sanctify me?
She returned, silent, to draw me, to lure
With her velvety dress, her burning eyes.
I yearned to touch her—how heartfelt her sighs!
My yearning spoke its own eloquence:
Passion is tribute to Truth. In that sense,
She yielded. Her beautiful eyes she turned
Towards me, holding out her hand–how she yearned
With tears. I touched her—our burning, a cure
Of searing, hot pain.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?”
Out of the fire, I yanked my hand, aghast
How my senses had mocked my brain, so fast
Was I infected by the air. Moving
Quickly, I raised the numb shepherd afoot;
Left the merchant’s den’s mephitic soot.
I found myself leading the groggy guide,
To where I could not tell. To God I prayed,
And became aware how far I had strayed
In trusting a weak shepherd to lead me.
Then I prayed to HIM to lead and feed me.
Along the town’s muddy lanes I wandered,
Becoming depressed, hungry, and tired.
How, how? When, wherever could I abide?
I leaned on a building’s marble column.
“HE must know,” I thought, “where I am and where
I must go. The desert?” Then—then aware
In my spirit of HIS presence solemn,
I looked up at the words TRUTH and JUSTICE
Engraved on top of the colonnade. Mice
Meanwhile had crawled onto the cart and on
The shepherd, who— frightened awake— arose:
“Heea, hiaa, hoo!” He leapt to his toes.
I was laughing— and kept laughing. His face,
With each contorting, stupefied grimace—
Each wild leap, each helpless gyration
Transfixed me, releasing all my tension
In laughter, thinking, “This absurd person—
My salvation!” His stupefaction changed
Into annoyance and anger at me;
And soon I felt no longer so giddy.
His dark eye on the tall colonnade ranged
And rested again on me— with disdain—
Even though to journey on I was fain.
Waving his arm like a snake, the tribesman
Stepped toward me. He stopped and spat on the ground,
Walked backward, and watched me, then turned around,
Took firm hold of his cart, and strode away.
I felt mortified and bereft—what pay
Could make him return? What plea could I make?
Hopeless—forlorn. He stopped. I watched him rake
Something out buried within his cart’s span.
He turned round, stood up, threw straight what he found
High up in the air toward me. It fell
At my feet. A flute. I felt ... lift ... the spell
Of inordinate disquiet that bound
Me to a woman’s warped pride. Sitting down
On the courthouse steps, I piped to the town.
On and on I played, piping a new song
Out of the lost hopes of my adventure—
Never felt my music, felt I, so sure:
Each note lifted and fell as I wandered
Into past years, past yearnings. I wondered
No longer o’er the meanings of visions,
Of my prayers, of imagined derisions.
Clarity burst round me as Time’s own song!
Hear me playing. Can you hear me? Listen …
Those yearnings are mine—my yearnings are yours—
We are dancing in poetry. Life’s hours
Pass. Evanescently they glisten,
Creating space—in an unmoving race—
Kissing MERCY’s face … sowing OUR embrace.
Finis