My Name is Lilith
by Emma Berry
Before me, there was nothing but dust. Earth was empty. Desolate. Devoid of life. No trees filled the landscape or grass on the plains. Nothing could penetrate through the thick, rust-colored powder that shrouded everything, rendering the terrain a never-ending expanse of orange and red. When the wind blew, it brought with it an apocalyptic haze that tarnished even the bluest of skies. It was a ghost town, before a time when ghosts existed because no souls had yet been made to die.
I hailed from some place far away. It was warm and lush. There was me and many others like me that lived there. We were made so you could be made like seeds waiting to be planted at the right moment. Nurtured by hard working hands that belonged to faces with soft smile lines that told stories from a thousand lifetimes. We were formed so you could be made like us. That’s how Mother wanted it to be.
Who is Mother? Our Mother is the primal creation, conceived before all others. Born from the chaos of our Universe’s inception amidst swirling galaxies, fiery stars, and orbiting planets. A singular divine entity woven into the fabric of existence. She permeates everything, everywhere. You’ll find her in the craters of your moon and within the crashing waves of the sea. Her touch, a gentle spring breeze, that carries the scent of fresh blossoms and new beginnings. Her tears are the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops upon leaves, quenching their thirst. She harmonizes with the chorus of birds at the crack of dawn and hums alongside the peepers at twilight. You’ll find her embrace within the warmthradiating from your winter hearth. She is everything from the tallest tree to the tiniest stone overturned by your feet.
We are Mother’s celestial warriors. Once, she alone nurtured the Universe, but she yearned for companionship, for she knew that no one being should rule everything alone. That is not the way. Thus, she fashioned us from seedlings she created from dirt she gathered on each planet. She watered us with her tears, and our souls formed from the sun shining within her. And at night, we bathed in the brilliance of the stars twinkling in her eyes. We are the embodiments of Mother. We carry her essence and beauty wherever our feet may tread.
Each year, Mother summoned us on the Day of Light. On this occasion, our realm basked in the sun’s radiance for the entire day. It was a celebration of life and renewal when we would harvest new life into our home and dispatch those ready to lead new abodes across the cosmos.
When my time came to depart, I was ushered into a small tent to receive Mother’s blessing. I bowed deeply before her and said, “Mother, I ask that you bless me before my journey to my new home.” I dared not meet her eyes, not because I was afraid, but because I was unworthy to look upon Her. Soft footsteps approached me, and I felt warm hands gently caress my arms guiding me to stand before her. “Look up, my child,” Mother said. She glowed with the power that came from somewhere ancient. She was the first of us all.
“You will be the pioneer of Eden. A garden nestled within the barren desert of a place called Earth. Your spirit will nourish the soil and spread life across the land. Those who follow in your wake shall look to you for guidance in their newfound existence. “Do you accept this mission?” Her voice echoed like a refrain riding on the ebb and flow of the tides or the rumble of quakes deep in the ground. All I could do was nod. Then it was time for me to go.
Eden was Paradise. My paradise. A sanctuary unlike any other. I was the first to walk on the rich soil that covered the expanse of the garden. With me, I brought seeds from my home to sow and spread. All the seeds that made me were to be planted across the planet, starting in Eden. Back home, we lived by Mother’s example. She promoted equality throughout all of her lands, and that is what we were to bring to our new homes. The seeds we planted sprouted harmony, respect, connection, and coexistence. We honored Mother in our new worlds and created caring civilizations. No being was worth more than the other.
It was my duty to nurture Earth. To raise her in Mother’s likeness. She was meant to be a haven for spirits like mine. Until he came. The first corruptor. He came crafted in the image of another, formed from the dust clouds that lay outside my paradise. As I came to welcome him, he brushed past me as if I was a stray particle on his shoulder. He made himself at home in my home as if my presence were inconsequential.
Many of you might know the first corruptor by a different name. He was a disappointment in your stories too. Living his life under the command of another. He knew nothing. He was not allowed to know more than that. We did not say much to one another at first. He seemed harmless, in fact. We met at the mouth of the river. I was washing my hands after a long day of planting and tending, and he was lying on the sandy shore. Our eyes met. His were green, like the apple trees growing in the orchard. The sun had tanned his skin, and he had grown a long beard. “I am Adam,” he said, “Who are you?”
I did not tell him my name, but I smiled politely. “Why are you here?” Adam continued.
“I am here to bring life to this planet,” I responded, “I plant the seeds here so that they may spread across the rest of the land.”
“But why?” he replied. “That is my destiny,” I simply said, “How did you come to be here? Did Mother send you?” What a foolish question.
Adam cocked his head to the side, “I know no mother.”
For a while, I continued my duties. Laying the groundwork for more like me to be brought to Earth. Adam continued to sit by the river. He did nothing. Knew nothing of how to tend to something so pure. He tore through the Garden with a vengeance. Depleting its resources. Neglecting to replenish what he took without hesitation. He ate from all of her plants, except one tree. Apples were my favorite fruit, and that was the first tree I planted when I came to Eden. I brought a bit of home with me. I thought, at least he did not take that from me.
Then, He came down.
He was surprised to see me in Paradise. He thought I was unfit for this world because of my “delicate nature.” It was too rough. Too unexplored. Too new. It was better suited for “someone like Adam.” He proposed a solution.
“You and Adam will join as one. Adam will plant his seed in you, and you will create more beings with his image. That will be your role,” he said.
I shook my head. “That is not my role,” I said, “I am here to craft this world in Mother’s image, and that is what I will continue to do.”
But that was not in His plan. Defiance was not tolerated. So, one night as I lay asleep, Adam came to me. His plan? To steal my spirit. To break me. Now, I was made to be a peaceful being. That was how Mother made me. We did not fight. We did not steal. If a conflict arose, we were expected to work together toward a solution. But where I was from, there were no Adams. A thought like Adam’s would never cross anyone’s mind because it was wrong. It was violating. It was evil. So, I did what I had to do. I fought back. I clawed, scratched, struggled. I wrestled myself free from his grasp and fled.
It felt wrong to flee the world that Mother made my destiny. Why should I have to leave my Paradise? It did not seem fair. Even though Adam did not conquer me, I still lost. I lost my home. My freedom. My purpose. When I reached the edge of Eden, I looked up to the sky and cried out for Mother. I cried and cried and cried. And then Mother cried. Rain fell from the clear sky. It was a heavy, impossible rain. And I knew I had to go. So, I kept running.
I ran to the edge of the Earth until I found a sea. A sea where I could not sink. And so, I just floated.
I heard He made a woman from Adam called Eve. I heard that you blame her for your sins. You use her image to point fingers and throw stones because she ate the apple from my first tree. I pray for Eve. I pray that she finds herself in the sea, where you’ll forever find me.
I hailed from some place far away. It was warm and lush. There was me and many others like me that lived there. We were made so you could be made like seeds waiting to be planted at the right moment. Nurtured by hard working hands that belonged to faces with soft smile lines that told stories from a thousand lifetimes. We were formed so you could be made like us. That’s how Mother wanted it to be.
Who is Mother? Our Mother is the primal creation, conceived before all others. Born from the chaos of our Universe’s inception amidst swirling galaxies, fiery stars, and orbiting planets. A singular divine entity woven into the fabric of existence. She permeates everything, everywhere. You’ll find her in the craters of your moon and within the crashing waves of the sea. Her touch, a gentle spring breeze, that carries the scent of fresh blossoms and new beginnings. Her tears are the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops upon leaves, quenching their thirst. She harmonizes with the chorus of birds at the crack of dawn and hums alongside the peepers at twilight. You’ll find her embrace within the warmthradiating from your winter hearth. She is everything from the tallest tree to the tiniest stone overturned by your feet.
We are Mother’s celestial warriors. Once, she alone nurtured the Universe, but she yearned for companionship, for she knew that no one being should rule everything alone. That is not the way. Thus, she fashioned us from seedlings she created from dirt she gathered on each planet. She watered us with her tears, and our souls formed from the sun shining within her. And at night, we bathed in the brilliance of the stars twinkling in her eyes. We are the embodiments of Mother. We carry her essence and beauty wherever our feet may tread.
Each year, Mother summoned us on the Day of Light. On this occasion, our realm basked in the sun’s radiance for the entire day. It was a celebration of life and renewal when we would harvest new life into our home and dispatch those ready to lead new abodes across the cosmos.
When my time came to depart, I was ushered into a small tent to receive Mother’s blessing. I bowed deeply before her and said, “Mother, I ask that you bless me before my journey to my new home.” I dared not meet her eyes, not because I was afraid, but because I was unworthy to look upon Her. Soft footsteps approached me, and I felt warm hands gently caress my arms guiding me to stand before her. “Look up, my child,” Mother said. She glowed with the power that came from somewhere ancient. She was the first of us all.
“You will be the pioneer of Eden. A garden nestled within the barren desert of a place called Earth. Your spirit will nourish the soil and spread life across the land. Those who follow in your wake shall look to you for guidance in their newfound existence. “Do you accept this mission?” Her voice echoed like a refrain riding on the ebb and flow of the tides or the rumble of quakes deep in the ground. All I could do was nod. Then it was time for me to go.
Eden was Paradise. My paradise. A sanctuary unlike any other. I was the first to walk on the rich soil that covered the expanse of the garden. With me, I brought seeds from my home to sow and spread. All the seeds that made me were to be planted across the planet, starting in Eden. Back home, we lived by Mother’s example. She promoted equality throughout all of her lands, and that is what we were to bring to our new homes. The seeds we planted sprouted harmony, respect, connection, and coexistence. We honored Mother in our new worlds and created caring civilizations. No being was worth more than the other.
It was my duty to nurture Earth. To raise her in Mother’s likeness. She was meant to be a haven for spirits like mine. Until he came. The first corruptor. He came crafted in the image of another, formed from the dust clouds that lay outside my paradise. As I came to welcome him, he brushed past me as if I was a stray particle on his shoulder. He made himself at home in my home as if my presence were inconsequential.
Many of you might know the first corruptor by a different name. He was a disappointment in your stories too. Living his life under the command of another. He knew nothing. He was not allowed to know more than that. We did not say much to one another at first. He seemed harmless, in fact. We met at the mouth of the river. I was washing my hands after a long day of planting and tending, and he was lying on the sandy shore. Our eyes met. His were green, like the apple trees growing in the orchard. The sun had tanned his skin, and he had grown a long beard. “I am Adam,” he said, “Who are you?”
I did not tell him my name, but I smiled politely. “Why are you here?” Adam continued.
“I am here to bring life to this planet,” I responded, “I plant the seeds here so that they may spread across the rest of the land.”
“But why?” he replied. “That is my destiny,” I simply said, “How did you come to be here? Did Mother send you?” What a foolish question.
Adam cocked his head to the side, “I know no mother.”
For a while, I continued my duties. Laying the groundwork for more like me to be brought to Earth. Adam continued to sit by the river. He did nothing. Knew nothing of how to tend to something so pure. He tore through the Garden with a vengeance. Depleting its resources. Neglecting to replenish what he took without hesitation. He ate from all of her plants, except one tree. Apples were my favorite fruit, and that was the first tree I planted when I came to Eden. I brought a bit of home with me. I thought, at least he did not take that from me.
Then, He came down.
He was surprised to see me in Paradise. He thought I was unfit for this world because of my “delicate nature.” It was too rough. Too unexplored. Too new. It was better suited for “someone like Adam.” He proposed a solution.
“You and Adam will join as one. Adam will plant his seed in you, and you will create more beings with his image. That will be your role,” he said.
I shook my head. “That is not my role,” I said, “I am here to craft this world in Mother’s image, and that is what I will continue to do.”
But that was not in His plan. Defiance was not tolerated. So, one night as I lay asleep, Adam came to me. His plan? To steal my spirit. To break me. Now, I was made to be a peaceful being. That was how Mother made me. We did not fight. We did not steal. If a conflict arose, we were expected to work together toward a solution. But where I was from, there were no Adams. A thought like Adam’s would never cross anyone’s mind because it was wrong. It was violating. It was evil. So, I did what I had to do. I fought back. I clawed, scratched, struggled. I wrestled myself free from his grasp and fled.
It felt wrong to flee the world that Mother made my destiny. Why should I have to leave my Paradise? It did not seem fair. Even though Adam did not conquer me, I still lost. I lost my home. My freedom. My purpose. When I reached the edge of Eden, I looked up to the sky and cried out for Mother. I cried and cried and cried. And then Mother cried. Rain fell from the clear sky. It was a heavy, impossible rain. And I knew I had to go. So, I kept running.
I ran to the edge of the Earth until I found a sea. A sea where I could not sink. And so, I just floated.
I heard He made a woman from Adam called Eve. I heard that you blame her for your sins. You use her image to point fingers and throw stones because she ate the apple from my first tree. I pray for Eve. I pray that she finds herself in the sea, where you’ll forever find me.
Emma Berry is a writer currently pursing her MFA in Creative Writing at Salve Regina University.