Snake

snakes, scaly, slippery, a cold lump morbidly crawling through the dark tunnel of memory some creatures are born cursed they are spat, and trumpled on so that the nerves slithered when i actually came face to face with one at two or three the black six inch long they called two headed thing propped my interest further you dont get to see one often i could not remember whether it had ended up under somebody's stick or a parang but thanks to the snake it helped me hold onto a figment otherwise would have been lost on the tail of time an inert lump resting on cold yellow soil guilty heavy of heaven and earth all ready to take the cold and inhumane blows of the world once in while a little one would surface below the neighbour's house, a short floral ribbon it looked like jewels on undeserving hands, bothersome foul mud the impatient neighbour never let it up coming running with his parang crashing or splitting it into two wonder how such a small creature can elicit such a anger in a big fat farmer an eerie feel for them led me to kill one with a stick and to this day i am struck with the thought of what karma i have to face little wriggly creature that would have done no harm but then it is a snake the road between two padi fields become a killing field during the harvesting season a dead chamber as little snakes make their way to to the other side for better pasture ending up under wheels they lie each morning crushed, bruised they become nothing but a charred brittle piece of leather a few days later some snakes are aphrodisiac and I usually wonder whether these can be Chinese medicine to heal whatever ailment you have such as impotence one morning a flash flood brought the fate of a little cobra under brother's bed, the cat agitated had sounded the alarm with her irritating meows the cat we then called brother's saviour we smelt things foul and like the feline came face to face with it someone screamed cobra as its head had reared and its neck spanned the poor little lifeless rope then flew head and tail through the air, into the flash flood after it had gone under the stick as is always with snake it slithers back to my memory lane each time somebody mentions snake a lane of sweet sour sad feeling of heaven and earth about snakes of why God even bothers to create it