“I will whistle for them and gather them in, for I have redeemed them, and they shall be as many as they were before.
Zechariah 10:8 ESV
It has occurred to me
That the first garden and the last garden
Were always the plan
And the glory of the last garden
From its bejeweled walls
To the majesty of its tiniest leaf vein
Is brighter, deeper, more profound and poignant
Than it would have been
Without the serpent
Not because he was anything
But he believed he was making something
Something big
Yet in the end what had been intended
For very good
Turns out to be inevitable
And very good
And like the serpent never was
And even – and he’ll hate this –
Better
As if he’d never slithered
Because of the middle garden
And the blood-like sweat
And a cup drained
By one who did not slay the garden invaders
But submitted to their serpent whips
And venomed nails
And sweated out blood like thick rain
So to gather
All of his
Without one of them lost
Again
Without one of them lost
A snake-bitten people looked up at the exalted one
Crowned in thorned fangs
and were healed
And in the end
The serpent
Got nothing at all