creative writing, poetry, women

Lilith Went Out

When she was cast out.

No one knew where she walked,

And who she spoke to,

Because if you believe

The idea of other forces

Hidden from a Creator’s gaze

Should keep you awake at night.

Were their voices,

The snap of a child’s femur?

The whisper of a paramour?

Who knows,

Maybe she listened,

desperate for comfort

But never regretting

The decision not to submit.

And sometimes,

I wonder, between the gaps

Of witness and myth,

History and story

If the devil were actually

A beautiful woman

And if that were made public,

Then Hell would be so full

That Heaven would take in

The evictees.

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