Eve Yearns for Lilith

Forbidden Lily of night

dancing outside the gates,

naked, clothed in mist,

in swirling Mystery,

You steal My sleep,

kidnapping innocence,

shattering complacent peace

like brittle glass

with Your banshee wailing.

Winged, taloned,

hawk-eyed temptress,

Your night-vision pierces My heart,

Your owl-wisdom a shining mirror.

You cry, “I am everything you lack,

all you fear, and I am All.

If you are not Me,

two sides of one feather,

two poles of one magnet,

then who, who are you?”

I Am counterfeit.

I would be counterpoint

to Your seductive melody,

completing the circle

of Circe’s circuit of energy.

I could astound the man, Adam,

who calls You evil, ugly, old:

vault these walls, escape,

to find between Our legs

the original garden,

spider’s tangle

of hair and thighs

and arms and tongues,

to spiral, snaking,

coiling around a spinal tree,

in the tender dark

of those who know each other

inside out from the beginning,

fingers igniting guiding torches,

from an eternal core of flame.

© Tamara Rasmussen 2018