A retelling of part of the journeys of Inanna, Queen of Heaven. An ancient Sumerian Goddess, and figure in the Epic of Gilgamesh, Inanna is a figure that has fascinated me for years. As such, I decided to retell her myth, that her story may continue to grow and live.
Long ago, but still long into the Great Waning, glorious Inanna adorned the sky, and bedewed the earth with fertile love. She travelled wild and fierce, driving a mighty chariot glittering with jewels of every cut and hue, drawn by seven bold and noble lions. Whenever she crossed the sky, men and gods alike were struck at the joy and fearful wonder she inspired. She never judged or discriminated in what she brought, bestowing her love on any who would accept it, for love was all she knew or understood.
However, there were those among the gods who envied and mistrusted her open arms and universal embrace. Some came to conspire against her, plotting to drive her from the heavens, saying and thinking:
‘She is simple-minded, and has no place among those as great as ourselves.’
For many years these voices and thoughts spread, black as poison between the houses and meeting-places of the gods. First as whispers and furtive implication, then as cruel remarks made in jest, then made ‘in jest’, then just made. It was in this manner that at every gathering at which she was not present, her denouncement was a reliable fixture.
So it came to be that one day, whilst her chariot was blazing across the autumn skies, her palace was raided by the most fervent of her detractors, and the shining moonstone doors barred to her. On her return she was horrified and beat her fists at the door, crying:
‘Without a home where shall I find rest? Even the lowest beasts have their place in earth or the heavens – where now is mine?’
The conspirators hid their heads and stopped their ears to prevent her anguish touching their cold hearts and melting their cruel resolve. Even Dumuzi, the mortal man she had taken into her home and bed ignored her pleas for aid and comfort, his fear of the traitor gods outweighing his loyalty. Only her handmaiden came to her as she lay sobbing on her porch, having hidden herself in the gardens as the raiders passed through.
When Inanna could stand, she and her handmaiden wandered together in search for someone willing to take them in, though none were willing, for in her pain and rage Inanna had become fearsome, her golden hair dancing in the otherwise intangible storm of her despair. Eventually the pair arrived on the shore of a vast nameless ocean, and the goddess threw herself into the water and wept bitter tears.
It so happened that for many long years, Enki, the god of wisdom and natural ways, had hidden himself in a chasm deep below the sea, far away from the other gods with their folly and man-mimicking pride. By now he knew the waters of the earth to their last drop, and he felt Inanna’s grief flowing into his domain. Moved by her distress, he was drawn to bestow upon her some of the wisdom he had retained from the time of wholeness, before the fracturing of the Queen of Creation and the age of the Great Waning.
Enki sent whispers to Inanna through the waves, telling her the forgotten tale of Ereshkigal, her lost mother-sister, with whom she had once been one. The gods had abused and humiliated Erishkigal, raping and mocking her, naming her strengths and weaknesses alike as sin. In her anger and distress she too had fled the heavens and built a mighty obsidian sanctuary in the land of the dead, the caverns far below the living world.
Through the sea, Enki told her of the curse Ereshkigal had brought on the gods, that only through death should any access her, her strengths, or her power. None had seen her since, and much that had been wonderful, healing and strong was lost to the world. The waves told Inanna of Ereshkigal’s long, solitary misery, of holding her power and pain close, unreached by any but depression and despair.
As Inanna floated and listened, the waves grew wild, and the sky boiled purple and grey, pregnant with threat. Her handmaiden grew afeared and called, ‘Great Queen, come back to the shore – you will be lost!’
‘Fear not, my friend,’ Inanna replied, words almost lost to the rising storm. ‘Only through loss may I be found. Come, there is a long road ahead of us!’
Her purpose now clear, Inanna began her journey to the gates of the underworld, guided by the secret knowledge granted by Enki. Even so armed, the pair were beset by hardship. The first portal was hidden high in the Astrals, the mountains at the end of the world whose peaks hold up the sky, whose rock is burned black by the sun that rises just beyond the edge, and frozen over with dagger-sharp ice crystals as soon as the sun has gone by.
Upon reaching the dread maw almost invisible set against the charred rock, worn and weak from their journey, an enormous silver demon barred their path, calling with startling volume and clarity:
‘Hold! Who dares approach the realm of Erishkigal, great queen of the dark and hidden realms?’
‘It is I Inanna, queen of the skies. I would speak with your mistress, who is my kin.’
The demon snarled, ‘All who enter here must abide by the laws of the underworld. Do you agree?’
Haughty Inanna was quick to answer, ‘I do!’
‘Then,’ said the silver one, ‘You must remove your crown. There is but one queen beyond these gates.’
Inanna took the circlet from her head and passed it to her handmaiden. ‘Faithful and most loving friend, this part of the journey is for me alone. Wait for me here, and if I do not return within three days, go to Enlil, my brother, and tell him what has happened.’
Without another word, the goddess followed the demon into the mountain, and beyond her friend’s help or knowing.
Rainbow Samphire 