I pity my compadre

Don’t strike the snake

I thought as I struck

at the root of my sin.

Fear not but pity

weighed my spade as I cut

earth with my thought.

For the serpent, too, a creature is –

rise thus he must –

and the first to fall waits longest of all.

Yes, by God he’ll rise. I say it is just.

For what better blow

to the little man’s pride

than to give what he hates

and wants all along?