Light and Dark, Raven and Dove

Inspired in part by Ravens and Doves, an essay in Emergence Magazine.

The waters thrashed against the simple boat. White-capped waves splashed along its sides, and the vessel rocked to and fro. It was small and fashioned out of red-tinted cedar. The skies were deep gray and nearly dark as night; torrents of rain had poured down for months. A woman huddled to herself in the center of the ship. It was a wonder she had survived at all. Every hour, she used a large clay bowl to toss as much water as she could off the sides of the boat. It was and had been exhausting work. All around her, the waters expanded into a never-ending ocean of darkness and chaos.

One fateful day, a frightening gale tore across the surface of the waters. Her boat rolled and nearly capsized. By the grace of someone she chose not to name in order to remain hidden, she and her little ship survived. She gripped the sides so hard that her hands were white as a ghost. After having righted the ship, she looked to the skies. Her hair was the color of gold, and she wore it long. Her skin — the subject of so much attention during her time, as was everyone’s — was a soft pink. She wore a gray cloak with a small leather satchel slung over her shoulder. As she looked up at the furious heavens, the downpours abated. She hadn’t seen anything but heavy rainfall for so long. Clouds still swirled above, but they had lightened considerably. She could’ve sworn she almost saw the slightest hint of cerulean behind the gray.

Months passed, and each day, she grew more and more grateful that she no longer had to rush waters from her boat. Life was easy if not a little boring. In the distance, small peaks of land began to pierce the receding waters. The memories of the trees and the plants and the animals that creeped along the ground felt like another life at this point. In fact, it was another life. She had been born in another time long, long after the events of this flood. But she found herself swaying precariously in a tiny boat for a very specific reason.

Forty days and much less water later, she stood at the bow of her ship looking out over what was soon-to-be land. She now saw undulating shapes of the Earth shimmering below the gentle waves.

“Where is this blasted raven?” she said out loud, apparently to herself or the sun. “I know she’s supposed to be here.” The woman pulled out a sopping book and opened it close to the beginning. Words slowly etched themselves into empty pages, and the most recent ones were about a man sending forth a raven. The rest of the book was blank for now. Suddenly, she saw a large black bird flying through the fair skies above. She waved her arms wildly to grab the bird’s attention. The raven flew over to her ship and landed on the port side.

The woman bowed in a greeting and smiled. From her leather satchel, she slowly pulled a small linen bag tied with a red thread. She opened the bag and pinched some of the dust inside between her fingers. She took a couple of slow steps over to the raven and sprinkled the dust on her black, feathered beak.

“Remnants of the Tower of Babel,” cawed Raven, suddenly able to speak the woman’s language. “Clever. However did you find some? That story has yet to pass.”

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it, dear,” said the woman with a smile. “I’ll tell you all about it later. We have plenty of time. For now, would you want to pass the coming weeks with me? You’ll have a place to come back to.”

“I already have a ship,” replied Raven. She looked the woman’s little boat up and down. “And it’s much larger than yours.”

“I’ve heard there’s another vessel out there! One helmed by a man named Noah and his family. Something about by sevens for clean animals and twos for unclean ones.”

“That’s the one,” said Raven.

“Well, I won’t keep you here if you want to return to Noah’s boat. But I’ll bet a change of scenery and company might be welcome. Plus, I’ll never call you ‘unclean’.”

The bird cocked her head to the side and thought for a moment. “What shall I call you?” asked Raven.

It was the woman’s turn to pause. “Lilith. You can call me Lilith.”

“I know a Lilith from before the flood. You do not look like her. Her hair was dark, and yours is lighter.”

“Funny you should mention that. I hope she’s safe.”

“So do I,” said Raven. Lilith-but-not-Lilith and Raven became fast friends. They told each other stories and watched as the waters continued to recede. Together, they marveled at the stars at night and thanked the sun during the day.

Seven days after Raven’s arrival, the pair saw a dove circling the sky. Lilith again waved her arms wildly through the air to grab the attention of the new bird. The dove saw her and flew over to the edge of the small boat. Lilith repeated the ritual with the bag of Babel dust, and just like with Raven, Dove began to speak.

“Impressive and out-of-order magic!” said Dove.

“Thank you,” replied Lilith. “The waters have almost waned as much as they can. Soon, you will be able to return to the Earth.”

“But not yet!” replied Dove. She seemed agitated.

“I know. Not yet. You will have to return to your larger ship. Will you come back?” As an answer, Dove took off from the edge of the small boat, took to the blue skies, and flew back where she came.

Another week had passed, and the crowns of trees had now crept above the waves. Somehow, they had retained their leaves and seemed perfectly healthy. Lilith’s small ship passed majestic cedar and oak, scraggly frankincense, showy juniper, and stately olive. As they moved through the flooded forests, Lilith and Raven again saw Dove circling the radiant sky. Once she spotted the pair and their boat, Dove flew towards them and landed on the edge of the ship.

“Thank you for returning,” said Lilith. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Dove remained silent.

“As you can see, the ground is almost ready for us to return,” said Lilith. “The trees point the way down to the fertile Earth below.” There was another pause.

“She’s awfully quiet,” whispered Raven to Lilith. “I don’t trust her.”

Lilith smiled and bowed to Dove. “I know you’re hesitant to join me. But the seeds we plant here will inform generations to come. The voice that gives Noah direction invokes the light over the dark. Humans before my time will take this to mean that light-skinned people like me should hold dominion over those with darker skin. They will begin to refer to themselves as white and believe themselves closer to the heavens because of this. So much suffering and pain comes out of these beliefs.”

“But you’re not white,” said Dove, obviously confused. “You’re pink at best. Like a shorn pig. I am white!”

“I know,” said Lilith. “You two are one of the first symbolic instances of the coming split in this particular story. But we are all creatures of the middle. We are not the tiniest parts that make up reality, nor are we whirling galaxies. We exist at a crossroads, and we can affect how this story progresses.”

Dove blinked and stared at Lilith. “I think you might’ve lost her with that one,” said Raven.

“I believe we can help right these stories if you come back to us. You’re welcome to return when you’re ready,” said Lilith.

Dove paused in contemplation. After a few moments, she again flew from the side of the ship without saying a word. She landed in a nearby olive tree and plucked a silvery-green leaf. Carrying it in her beak, she took off, circling back to where the larger ship must have been.

Lilith glanced at Raven who still looked concerned. “You’re always the cunning bird,” said Lilith. “But I think she means well. She is a dove after all. You’re the smart one. She might not be as smart as you, but she brings peace in her own way. She’ll be back.”

Without Dove, Lilith and Raven spoke about the coming times and the challenges the Earth will face. “The floods will return in my time,” explained Lilith one quiet afternoon as the boat found itself in mere inches of water. Two weeks had passed since they last saw Dove. “Our floods aren’t as bad as this one was, but entire cities will be underwater. We’re trying to rebuild.”

Raven was perched on the ship’s bow. She looked forlorn. “Why come back here then?” she asked.

“I’m hoping that finding new paths through old stories can help us heal a bit,” said Lilith. Just then, the two saw Dove and her white feathers flying quickly above. She descended through the air and landed, as usual, on the edge of the ship.

“You’ve returned,” said Lilith.

“The talk of dominion has already started,” said Dove. “After delivering the olive leaf, I waited another week. After I left, I circled the boat without returning. Noah slaughtered the clean animals he had with him as an offering to the one that flooded the Earth. I heard the voice that speaks to Noah. He told Noah that he can expect that all of the animals will be delivered to him.” Dove looked shocked and terrified.

“I’m sorry,” said Lilith. “We can’t stop what’s already happened, but we might be able to help generations from now.” Raven was perched on Lilth’s left shoulder. Dove flew over and sat right next to Raven.

With Raven and Dove together on her shoulder, Lilth took her first steps back onto solid — it not squishy — ground. Her bare foot sunk into the soaked grasses, and she noticed a rose bush in bloom nearby the marooned boat. Its flowers were small, pink, and inviting. As she walked towards it, snakes slithered past her feet on their cool bellies.