If I were the serpent, I’d smile with eyes, 

Wrap truth in a whisper, then cloke it with lies. 

I’d start with a question, placing doubt in the heart, 

Until trust in the Author, begins to depart. 

If I were the serpent, I’d twist what was true,
Make “helper” mean lesser, not equal with you.
I’d bury her strength and belittle her name,
Till the crown of creation was stripped of her flame.

If I were the serpent I’d target foundations,

Encourage their strife, distort their relation.

I’d turn consequence into decree from above,

Till ruling replaced what was meant to be love.

If I were the serpent, I’d whisper to him:
“Rule over your helper; her light must grow dim.”
And then to the woman: “You must take the lead,”
Till love became war, and mistrust became seed.

If I were the serpent, I’d sell them my plan:
“Headship means power, submission means ban.”
I’d laugh as they built on translations I’ve bent,
For my lie would eclipse what the Scriptures had meant.

If I were the serpent, I’d shrink what was told,
From valor and wisdom, to meekness controlled.
I’d strip her of commerce, of vision and might,
Till “woman of valor” was hidden from sight.

If I were the serpent, I’d tear out the page,
Where Deborah judged and Priscilla engaged.
I’d call Junia nameless, make Phoebe unseen,
So daughters forget they were part of the team.

If I were the serpent, I’d silence her song,
Say prophecy’s ended, her voice doesn’t belong.
I’d bind up her mouth in the name of the fall,
Till the Bride lost her tongue and the Body grew small.

If I were the serpent, I’d fight to erase,
The woman’s true standing, her glory, her place.
I’d bury her calling in silence and dust,
Till she feared her own strength more than Yah that she trusts.

If I were the serpent, I’d tremble with fear,
Should she see through the lies I’ve been spinning for years.
As the Daughter of the King, reflecting His name,
She’d rise in His kingdom, unburdened by shame.