I Met The Goddess Lilith In A Cave

A magnificent winged woman who came to heal me

It was a relief to stumble at last upon the cave.

For days I had walked, and the rains fell — cooling me through to the juices. My legs walked on, carrying me farther and farther. They stopped only to rest under trees whose large, drooping branches offered shelter.

I did not see the cave until I fell forward into it.

It was dark and raining. I had been fumbling along with outstretched arms for some time when I toppled suddenly into it. I searched around in the darkness for some pieces of dry wood, which I gathered into a pile near the entryway. After repeated efforts, I was unable to bring them to flame and so collapsed into sleep.

In the morning, I was surprised to wake up to an overwhelming view of a meeting of sea and sky. The cave sat up on a hill that looked down upon a rounded cove. The cove was surrounded by craggy rocks reaching into tall cliffs around it. The waters were so still within this hidden cove that it seemed to be an illusion. I would not let myself believe it completely until I had walked down to the small sandy beach and put my hands into the wetness.

The cave had a high, rounded ceiling. The floor was smooth, almost polished. One could easily see that the sea had once made Her home within it. She was everywhere upon it in deposits of Her creatures; imprints of their tiny bones. The floor sloped down toward the back of the cave.

In the day’s light, I was able to gather up more dry wood and some brush, which I brought to flame inside the cave. I sat in the opening, watching. In the distance I could see the sails of boats passing by, reflecting against the wind. None came near. Within the cove waters were many tall rocks reaching up and out of the waters. They must have extended out into deeper waters as well, making it unsafe for boats.

For three days and three nights, I stayed there alone.

During the days, I wandered about, getting to know the area. On the second day, I discovered a steep path to the right of the cave which led into a densely wooded area.

This was the way I must have entered this place. I was able to forage, digging up roots and eating berries. My sleep was infrequent and uncomfortable. I woke up many times, frightened, having revisited the places of my visions in Dreamtime.

On the third night, as I sat in the opening of the cave watching the sun’s slow and brilliant descent, I heard a rustling — the sound of a large sail catching the wind. In the distance, I saw something dark and mysterious flying toward me. It became larger and larger as it got closer. The sound was the wind upon its outstretched wings.

This is too large to be an owl, I thought to myself, backing into the cave.

She came to land in the entryway. A magnificent, winged woman.

Long, thick, black hair. Strong dark eyebrows. Bright green eyes. Beaked nose above the small, pink mouth. The skin of copper-red.

She wore no clothing, exposing Her breasts between two enormous feathered wings, whose span filled the opening of the cave. She had hairy legs and the clawed feet of an owl.

Moss and cedar, her fragrance permeated the dense air of the cave. I stared at her, backing away until I reached the wall behind me and could go no farther.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I am Lilith,” she said “Keeper of secrets.”

She lowered her wings and approached me, looming very tall above me. “I have come that you may give me yours.”

“From where? From where have you come?”

“From the future, the past, and the now,” she said.

I tried to back away farther, but there was nowhere to go. Lilith turned and walked toward the fire. She sat herself down in front of it, her feathered back to me. “I know,” she said to the fire, “the form is difficult at first.”

I stood, looking at her back, how the feathers — which from a distance had looked black and grey but were actually black and brown with flecks of white — hung around her like a shawl.

“You will soon become cold in that corner,” she said. “Come, sit across the fire from me.”

I walked to a place directly across from her, the fire between us, and sat down.

“Your sleep needs guarding,” she said, poking at the fire with a large stick, bringing up sparks. “For this purpose, I have come.”

I sat up, watching her through the fire until I could not sit up anymore and let myself lie down and then, finally, surrender to slumber. My sleep was again fitful, waking me. Every time I awoke I would see her, sitting in the same place, awake, watching me, the fire blazing high between us.

In the morning, as the sun rose, she left — flying away, her wide wings spanning the horizon. At the sun’s setting, she returned, clutching food within her clawed feet.

All through the nights to follow she sat across the fire from me.

When my dreams woke me, I sat up and stare into the red flames she kept burning tall. No words passed between us. Though the form I still found difficult, her dark, silent presence offered me comfort.

One night I awoke in a panic, gasping for breath. I tried to rid myself of the horrors of my last vision from my time in the temple, the vision of the murder of the Goddess, which replayed inside my Dreamtime. I shook my head and covered my eyes. I stood up and paced and circled on my side of the fire.

“Tell it all to me,” Lilith said, breaking the silence between us. “Tell me all your secrets. I shall hold them for you that you may live a human life.”

So it was that I began to tell Lilith my secrets. Each night, after I had eaten, I sat across the fire from her and told a story. I started with the first temple vision, then moved on from there, closing my eyes to better remember. I felt how the words that left me reached her differently — how the passage through the fire changed them, how they arrived to her polished — burned clean.

At first, I was hesitant, not wanting to let them go, uneasy with their form after they left me. As we continued to work, however, the sense of relief became larger than that part of me that longed to cling. I began to look forward to my nighttime storytelling, yearning to reveal myself further; shed another layer.

I could feel how Lilith absorbed them, how she was able to hold them within herself without becoming altered by them. Each time I would complete a cycle, she would nod her head and say, “This too, shall come to pass.”

“Where do you go,” I asked her finally one night, “when you leave here?”

“My home is in the Red Sea,” she said. “I go to attend to the many matters of my children.”

“Children? Have you many children?”

“All who discovers the murder of the Goddess are my children.

I come to assist them through this most difficult discovery. You, Aureillia, are my child.”

“Are there many like me?”

“Many, and yet, too few. There is much work to be done.”

“Work?”

“Yes. Work.”

“What kind of work?”

“What is broken may be repaired,” Lilith said, then low, almost in a chant, “Gather Her many pieces. Make Her whole.”

“’ Gather her many pieces’,” I repeated. “Not gone forever?”

“Nothing is gone forever.”

“Of course,” I said, looking at her. A current of feeling filled my being.

It was so strong and possessing, that I had to stand up to contain it. I stood up. I let it radiate through me. I gasped in the joy of it; the feeling of hope.

“But how?” I asked.

Lilith looked up at me with a half-smile. “Yes,” she said, tilting her head to one side. “How?”

© Theresa C. Dintino

Above is excerpted from my novel, Ode To Minoa: Journey of a Snake Priestess in Bronze Age Crete