By Serwat Faisal (@serwat_writes) & Jack Burrus Goodson (@77jbgoodson)
My Dearest Dear of Oceans-Never-Crossed,
He’s leaving me. His overgrown, untrimmed ego has grown weary of my tongue. Viper-like is how he is inclined to describe it. The constant insistence that I follow his lead, his step, his orders. Any deviance, any defiance: he calls me serpentine…
From our numerous chats, you are well aware of how that word affects me. Waterfalling tears of innumerable nights grew the garden around us and multiplied the flora ten-fold — is this his aim? Are my tears the fertilizer he wishes to extract from me? Puppet-like. A motionless marionette. That is all I feel like.
Sometimes, I wish the snake he tells me to steer clear of would swallow me whole. Feast upon me. Return me to the Creator who has also taken to ignoring me so.
He talks to Adam, of course. Cabalistic chats and colloquies under the apple tree—I grow eternally jealous. No one wishes to speak to me. Not even our Father. The last time me and him had a chat, he averted his eyes and twiddled his floating thumbs as if he was ashamed to look upon me — me, Lilith! — his daughter, his first creation. Shame engulfs me. In what direction did I unconsciously grow that his light no longer falls upon me?
I have heard whispers of a nickname those two conniving creatures have forced upon me: “Adam’s first wife.” A mention of an order stings me so.
I write in rambling words, My Dearest Dear, for I know not what will happen in the coming days. The darkness of the door attracts me and repels me in the same measure. Dependant, so I have become. On what? I do not know. I hardly know myself, let alone the world outside of this secret garden, a world whose clarion call sends shivers of anticipation through me.
I know not what I want. It seems that Adam and his author are plotting. My eyes and ears are peeled, but my heart has become raw and sore to the touch.
My mind runs dry, but my pen does not. Respond, my dear, and tell me of yourself and your troubles. Convince me that the world outside these walls is something to be loved and latched onto. Bring words of beauty, for I feel mine fading fast.
Eternally, eternally yours,