Lilith as Mother and Enchantress – beautiful story with so many layers.
My body was rife with boils and scabs, the pain constant, like blue fire to an open wound. My own hands were clamshells, too stiff and weak to aid myself. My sisters, Martha and Mary, dressed my inflamed skin in cool gauze and oils, yet it did no good. I wished only for death.
“He, Yeshua, the healer,” Martha told me, her young face riddled with lines of worry. “He shall be back. It was his promise to us.”
“You speak of the Rabboni?” I could barely gasp the words. My breath was fast vanishing.
I moved my stiff body, a near corpse, against the straw mattress. It cut like a blade. No miracle worker…
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