“I’m a visual artist, not a poet,” says Christine Riutzel. “But when I read Medda’s poem, I could see a really strong woman.”
“Baal-perezim woke me up early one morning about five years ago,” explains poet and singer Medda Beam. “A certain line entered my mind while I was still dreaming and struck me as peculiar, which roused me from sleep: Burning my defender, snob breaking my gender…
“It was a strange yet compelling line and I wanted to write it down before I forgot. As soon as I did, the rest came tumbling out…”
Medda Beam and Dale Grubaugh
Baal-perazim
It is possible, after all, to fight fire with fire
Burning my Defender, snob breaking my gender
You have ignited anger in the hearts of powerful ones
Fire, in glorious fury, has indeed come,
To your chagrin and the delight of your captives
Yet for millennia have you not been
A vortex of monstrous pain and suffering?
Foaming at the wet chasm
You have swallowed lives whole
He and we will take no rest
Until they are restored and you have been
Vanquished into your own eddy of despair
Woman hater, woe to you, you devil!
Your defeat will grieve you more than your demise
For it will come at hands you considered insignificant
You never esteemed them as opponents
Yet here they are ascending
Once your propeller, great pride now
Aggravates the sting of your loss
As for those you once subdued in a sea of dismay?
Bubbling, bursting for the joy set before them
They extend fresh joints
And flex muscles no longer fatigued
By the effort of keeping abreast
In an ocean that was never their intended place
Some, unaware that they ever had a body, are
Prompted by surprise!
They take heart and hammer, keen for action
In your eyes weak with arrogance,
Their courage is offensive audacity
But Truth reveals
It was never confidence in themselves–
You saw to that
Therefore, from whence cometh such assurance
Which is truly blessed,
But to you is a curse?
You could not conceive of a man
Who would lead women into battle
A man humble and flint-faced unto slaughter
He was like one of the women to you!
You discounted him as you discounted them
He rationed his own valor without measure
It fostered an unflinching calm;
In the midst of your tempestuous vendetta
You were found shadow-boxing
Your victims are forever dispatched
From the void of your presence
The one who called them away
Stares you dead in the eye, storm,
And utters the dreaded command,
“Peace, be still.”
— Medda Beam
