Golden Serpent
She is coiled up in the dark cavern, slumbering in that fertile void of darkness, but glowing from within. Her scaly skin is warm and smooth and shines a burnished gold, reflecting inner fires. This place where she dwells is deep inside Mother Earth.
There is a crack in Mother Earth’s stone skin, with a long, winding and at times very small and narrow tunnel to reach this place of silence and stillness. Despite that, the cavern is hung with red fabric that occasionally flutters in an unseen breeze, and her own glow glints off sparkling treasures that lay around her - items fashioned of gleaming white quartz, smooth dark obsidian, warm amber, fiery copper, as well as many figurines fashioned and baked from the earth. The serpent, the circle and the round, fertile mother link all of these objects, some of them ancient, some of them fresh. In her coils she is high, wide and perfectly still, it seems like she is braided in on herself, a neverending infinity of mighty serpent, sleeping, waiting in the dark.
As so happens every now and then, she picks up vibrations through the floor and the air, subtle shifts that ripple through her body. Another young maiden has been brought to her. A girl of 12 summers, her mother, her aunties and her older sister crawl on their bellies through the opening from the long, tight, constricting tunnel, squeezed by stone, out into the vastness of the red-adorned cavern.
They strike sparks onto their oil lamps and bow deeply to the rousing serpent. She blinks and takes in the maiden, the faint scent of her moon blood fresh on her. Uncoiling herself, the great golden snake glides over to the waiting women. She sees the maiden, hands and feet stained with ochre, clasping an amber necklace to her chest, eyes wide in awe and wonder at the serpent towering above her, lamplight and serpent-light mingling in the darkness of the seemingly infinite cavern, the fluttering gauzy red fabric and the piles of offerings that lay about.
The maiden’s mother nudges her, prompting her to hold out the necklace. Its beads are thick and round, the colour of honey, holding a flickering warmth, a faint memory of summer sun. A hum fills the space as the great serpent bows her head, accepting the gift. The maiden lays it reverently on the floor, unable to take her dark eyes from the swaying, pulsing power in the snake’s eyes. The serpent moves slowly, bringing her head level with the maiden, then with all the delicacy of the world, flicks her forked tongue over the girl’s head.
The gathered women sigh and weep for joy, the maiden feels tears of joy fall down her cheeks. The golden serpent withdraws slowly, scales shining as if molten gold were pouring fresh from the furnace. The maiden feels her mother’s strong hand grip her shoulders. The mystery is about to be revealed to her. She watches as the great serpent starts to shudder and roil, heart thudding in time with the movements that seem as though they should hurt. The serpent’s body shivers and shudders, then comes to a great stillness. The molten gold of her skin dims, as if the fire inside her serpentine body is flickering and failing.
The women stand without sound, the maiden’s tears now those of sorrow, for as closely as she looks, there is no movement. The minutes stretch to hours, days, weeks, all sense of time is lost down there, deep in the earth. The women move to cover the fallen serpent with the red cloth, and begin to sing songs of lamentation. The maiden wants to curl up and die alongside the serpent. What ill fortune! She must be thrice cursed to have brought death to this ancient mother. As the women grow silent again, and tears dry, a potent silence falls.
A strong breeze blows from nowhere, causing the women to shelter the small flames of their lamps. And then, out of the corner of her eye, the maiden sees movement. Gone in a second, she thinks she has dreamed it, until it happens, again and again. The golden serpent, the ancient mother, glides out from beneath her red shroud, leaving behind her shed skin, the dull scales now an empty husk. She gleams brightly, shining with youth and maidenhood.
The maiden stares in wonder as the women sing and dance, celebrating the rebirth. Now she understands. The serpent glides around them, holding them briefly in the safety and golden warmth of her coils, before returning to the centre, coiling up again to resume her slumber.