Nagini, that may not comply

The umbilical cord, the incense that heralds a new birth, the smoke that rises from handi labored sustenance, the fumes above a pyre, the serpent’s tail scampering off into the thick, all turns and twists of creation, celebration, destruction that I can recite in ballads of kingdoms underground, overground, guarded by Nehebkau or Chanes and serpent keepers with variant arms and tails, and commoners roaming around animated. I can recite limericks too to lighten the mood. Once upon a time a serpent lived across the moat/He had a beard like that of a goat/The goat he ate/His own beard was the bait/The serpent who lived from across the moat. But does it help? Nummo and Nagas and all other avatars, serpents are intertwined with humanity. Humanity which portends good, bad and evil. The she and he, and everyone else. Mega leaves with bodies lying, free falling with odd fishes in tow in a tormented sky of vomit green. And the handler with his one foot cramped against the serpent’s neck, forcing a predicated outcome has the serpent aghast. Splitting hair framing her neck, mouth drooped, eyes quizzing. Some unbeknownst hands create zigzag patterns in the dirt, like escape routes out the maze, reminding life is in our hands. Don’t blame the serpent, mythologies, reincarnations. Don’t be fooled by stories you did not write or witness. Don’t write stories of destruction by the serpent and give a pass to the rider. Don’t then bid the nagini to the sacrifice. Do you think she will comply?