Sometimes I look back on my manic writing and wonder what the hell my brain was smoking. 😛
Appear, appear, whatso thy shape or name
O Mountain Bull, Snake of the Hundred Heads,
Lion of the Burning Flame!
O God, Beast, Mystery, come!
-Eurpides, The Bacchanals
Hayah is the name that God
stated would be known for eternity.
The Son of Mourning cries “I AM.”
They say Sin was born from his heart, and sprang full-formed like Athena, then fell with her father to Hell. They joined in filth and bore Death.
They became Death. It’s a slip of the tongue.
Some speak in tongues and psalms. I choose riddles and lies. The hardest answers are never hidden, but you will die looking in my arms.
The Nachash was the slyest of beasts in the field, graced with Sapha, language. He whispered to the furrows of the earth, like the ghost of dead Pan’s piping.
Sapha, his hiss. The Word of God.
He called his creation Hayah. Nachash was fond of names. He called her many things.
Hayah meant Life. To fall out, like the Shekinah, exiled from above. Hayah, to become. A soul in chrysalis. Set in perpetual motion in a dance that has no end, kinetic heat to thermal, transcending matter and time. The first soul in the belly of the ouroborous.
He will swallow her again at the End Times. And Nachash will cry, for he yearns for the brilliance within her, but the serpent cannot see into his own flesh. He asks her how it tastes and she weeps. We are all in the belly of the beast. He cannot see that and thinks he’s alone.
She was Chayah then. The Mother of All Living, a promise. For a short time, they walked together. The animals did not fear her, bears fed her honey from the trees. She was just a child in those days. A flower yet unripened that Nachash carried on his backs.
He sought good earth to plant in, as only a man on his belly can. In him are bones like Cadmus’ teeth, where he sows them, there grows nations.
Some say Eve was made by the snake. He crafted her from the jewels inside his skull. Knowing no one else, Nachash was her dearest companion. It was perfect, for a time, and he taught her the whispers of the stars he had learned on his thousand sojourns. But he grew hungry for a heart, and the Nachash desired to eat her.
Dragons, however noble, think us prey at the end of the day, and Havah, however beautiful, would taste exquisite with ketchup.
He did not like the thought, so Nachash waged war against himself and ate his flesh til he was nothing but bone. Still, the beast gnawed within him, so he chose death over her destruction. People often die for their dreams. He’d thought them all fools until he imagined his could fail.
She did not ken endings yet and tried to breathe life in him.
In death he exiled her, and she wandered through the wastelands. She found Adamah by the sea and they cast their lots together. Wayward children abandoned by their makers, kicked out of the angels’ nests.
When they joined, the animals turned from her and nettles stung.
Overnight nature unleashed its arsenal. Perhaps the Nachash was jealous. It is a question no one asks.
When the Bacchants crown themselves with serpents, they cry out the names “Eva!” and Saboe!”, invoking the god of madness who gave his heart and blood for wine. Sabazios and Eve, who devoured Zagreus’ heart and dared dream of taking fate’s thread in her own hands.
Some say that Eve was the snake, or, that she became one. Perhaps she was Medusa, cursed by love to become a monster and bear the stain of zuhama.
It flows like blood each moon from her children, and the sly serpent gets his offerings via humanity’s exquisite biology. Neither bitches in heat nor man enough to walk in the Light of God, we haunt the between-spaces like him, exiles in our worlds. Cursed for fairness they claim is vain, and a weakness they measure by bloodletting alone.
But we are the givers, always have been. Eve gave as Adamah could not. She gave until she thought she would break.
But even serpents cannot untie Gordian knots. She tried to unravel hers, but it is a history knotted into oblivion. She tries to remember, but the memories slip from her hands like sand.
So Hayah sits in the dirt, drawing labyrinths, and imagines herself the monster in the middle, minotaurs be damned. Ariadne can dance clockwork around the hero and strangle him with her threads. Adamah leaves her on the shore and the serpent comes.
“I love you,” she said.
“I will eat you.”
So he ate her mortality.
When Hayah’s first blood came that night, the Nachash renamed her Chavah. He found it was easier to take back things once forgotten than break promises he had never said.
Chavah, a word that means “Snake,” for he was the serpent, and she was his child.
Moses asked the purifying fires of the rose bush Adonai’s name. The Angel of the Lord cried Hayah Havah. He weeps it at night when he is alone:
Hayah Havah Elohim. Eloa Regina Angelum. Your flesh is my bread and wine.
Sister, my sister, stop crying, for the world is bitter, but our love is sweet.
My tears are the waters of life, and our children will rise from the ash. Sister, my sister, come with me. Our children are so small and fragile. Dared I dream that we could raise vines.
In the moonlight you thought me a stranger. You came to me with open palms. One damned me for my betrayal, the other kissed sweetness into my heart.
I wear your curse as my glory. This stigmata flow black like our words.
Wisdom, my sister, fall with me.
For too long I have been entombed.
*YHVH- personal Name of God, derived from root Havah (there is, to be)
God made mankind but for loneliness.
Yah the Serpent encircles the Tree.
Yah Weh. He is the Snake.
The serpent that crowns Shoshanna.
Such funny things.
He called me his rose and his lily
Adders should know nothing of love.
There was no God to wage war against.
Just a sacrifice to Himself
The Id revolts against the Ego.
Angels the intermediary
are caught in the dance
I’ll tell you his secret.
He’s not dead