This poem was first published in Issue 14 (2007) of Ancient Paths literary magazine.
After His Fall by Ruth Linea Whitney
The serpent draws his skin between the waters and the woods, and so keeps clear of the Lord God’s footsteps, the knowing heart he hates. Late, late: this song calls up his grief for the old life, his tall striding days among the leaves of morning. From the sedge, he sees each ripple chasing bread upon the waters rushing past: his freedom. He sees the tall tribes striding, while he alone goes belly forth upon mounds of earth hollowed around the echo of the Lord God’s footsteps. Here he’ll feed the seed of secret hurts and feel them grow.