Lilith and the she-snake in the eden of lies: a bedtime story

Grandmother Lilith poked at the dying fire, her youngest granddaughter snuggling deeply into the comfort of her bosom.

These were the last of her days, the original Witch knew, and she wondered if her legacy would be strong enough.

Grandmother, tell me the story of the She-Snake, the little one whispered. And how you escaped from the garden.

Lilith’s lined face curled into a smile, and she clicked her tongue. Surely, you must be tired of hearing that one.

Never, affirmed the small Witch. I will never get tired of your story.

Lilith acquiesced, pulling the blankets tighter over her namesake. Very well.

The Old One began, her voice grumbling into the night with all the thunder of an Autumn storm:


The original Witch pressed her bare back against the Tree of Knowledge, and sunk her teeth deep into the forbidden fruit. She wondered how anything unholy could taste so sweet, and she wondered why her husband’s God, supposedly the divine light manifest in sacred, masculine spirit, would place pure evil in her garden.

The apple tasted of garnet-glittered electric passion, and every bite ignited the She-Fire between her legs. Every sensation on her tongue was an eruption of Earth-Magick, and the Priestess of the Garden learned a little more about her birthright with each lick of the apple’s skin.

Before her were dewy flowers of every color, pulsing with vibrant nature-light. Only when she partook of the forbidden fruit could she see the sheer power of the Mother God. Why has her husband not told her of the feminine divine? She wondered. Why does he discount her sexual power, her body, and her will?

Why does he believe he owns this Eden when, quite clearly, they are a part of this one Earth-Body?

She clenched her jaw tightly now, feeling betrayed. If I leave, the original Witch whispered, they will condemn me as a woman scorned, a fallen angel. They will say my body was weak, and my eyes were blind.

But how could she stay in place where half-truths were all she was told? How could she live with a man who sought only to dominate and to own her as property?

She dug her hands deep into the muddy ground now, having to bury the apple’s core so there would be no evidence. The mud was cold and gritty, smelling at once of both life and death. Her husband told her she was born of mud, as if it were a disdainful origin, but she saw the mystic mystery in the stuff.

Born of mud, I am. Daughter of the Mother God, I am. Slathering some of the earthen sludge on her face and her breasts, she rebelled against purity.

The fruit had only been forbidden because of the clarity it offered. The Garden Priestess recalled her husband’s face now, knowing that his warnings and his accusations were born of fear. The knowledge the tree had gifted her was this: She was a woman, and she was the formidable force of the feminine.

She was the magick of a seed sprouting, the newborn lamb being birthed, the in-breath and the out-breath, the bud opening, and the egg hatching. She was everything, and this world was far too small for her. If she was going to be wielded like so much malleable clay, she would have to be told of her inferiority.

Now she knew the truth she was never meant to learn, and there could be no turning back.

Behind her, a black She-Snake spiraled down the tree trunk and on to her shoulders. The original Witch knew right away who this creature truly was; She was the Mother God embodied, and She emanated the Creatrix-frequency.

This sultry, slippery She-Snake was a lover of the wild, the ruler of the death-birth-death cycle, and She was the one so-feared by her uninitiated man.

The She-Snake hissed: Dig up those apple cores, child, and let them call you a sinner. Go into the night and find a man who will revel in your sacral magick, who will let you straddle him without feeling his masculinity is threatened. Rest assured that your husband’s God is not one who only serves man, as he would have you believe.

The true God is a sacred lover of all things, as am I, the true Goddess. The light, the dark, the Spirit, and the Soul, all of these are divinity, and all of these are you.

She listened, this knowing butterfly, beginning to frantically harvest the evidence of her learning, tossing the rotten and worm-eaten remnants of disobedience on the ground. The She-Snake continued: Do you understand what I’m telling you, Woman? I am saying you are God-Goddess, All Things Holy.

Leave this place where they will seek to keep you down. Go into the night, let them call you a winged demon, and carve out a life for yourself worthy of your magnificence.

The Witch lay breathless on the ground now, surrounded by the tasted forbidden. The She-Snake slithered onto her belly, curling into a black heap and flicking Her tongue in time with her heartbeat.

There was silence for a while, as these Mothers of the New Age lay dormant. The original Priestess spoke then: And you? Where will you go? You must feel caged in this Eden of Lies!

The She-Snake raised Her head, yellow diamonds looking squarely into the eyes of the feminine fire-force embodied in a human woman. The She-Snake answered: I will stay here until the world is ready for me. I will lie in wait while the world becomes riddled with greed, war, and corruption.

I will see the horrors of ego-born fear and soulless individualism weigh our daughters down like heavy chains, and I will resist, with all that I am, the urge to burn it all down. They will call me a devil, and they will call you the same.

The Witch frowned, propping herself up on her elbows. Why would you do that? Why would you forsake our daughters and our Earth? We need you! Without you, we are blind!

The She-Snake hissed, bowing Her black head: You will learn, child, that the greatest growth comes from great wounding; it is true for every human soul, and it is true for the whole of the global community.

We must first be in absolute agony, we must have our egos struck hard with the swords of injustice and rage, we must grieve what we have lost, and we must bleed on the ground. Only then will my daughters begin to speak of me; then you will know that the dawn is coming.

Witches will begin to circle openly and fearlessly, and the world will no longer accept decisions made behind closed, golden doors. There will be a revolution of womb, and it will not be peaceful.

Tears streamed down Lilith’s cheeks, forming rivulets in the caked mud: No. No, I won’t go without you. You have shown me so much. You have shown me the world.

Sliding onto the ground, the She-Snake wound from left to right, returning to the Tree of Knowledge: I have told you nothing that you did not already know, Lilith. Remember that I am you. All the power I have vibrates inside of your Witch’s bones. You are the Mother-God, and She is you.

Your daughters, granddaughters, and their children will harbor this deep-knowing in their blood, and, one day, they will rise to claim their birthright as the holy feminine.

The tree began to shake infinitesimally and dozens of apples fell to the ground. Gather these to take with you, my love, the She-Snake spoke with finality. Give them out to every little girl you meet. Share with them what you know, and tell them who they are.

She filled her arms with as many apples as she could carry, taking one last look at her too-small life, and leaving the garden forever.

The original Witch held the promise of the She-Snake close to her heart, telling her own daughters of their divinity, begging them to question the validity of an external god-spirit who would condemn their bodies and their power.

Crone Lilith let her last words hang in the air, shaping the dreams of her sleeping granddaughter. In her mind’s eye, she could see the She-Snake’s coiled body wrapping itself around the Tree of Knowledge, guarding it with natural magick until the right time came.

She fixed her gaze on the full mother moon and black sky glittered with holy stars.

The awakening is coming, whispered Grandmother Lilith, stroking the hair of her young one.
All is coming.


DANIELLE DULSKY