Letters from Medea

Last Tuesday, Artemis, goddess of the wilderness

and daughter of Zeus, started a bush fire.
Close by, Eve, fruit lover and wife of Adam,
pointed and laughed with her.

In the old tales, Artemis is the long lost

niece of Eve.

What no one mentions is that Eve was a storyteller—storymaker.

they said that God made woman naturally curious—

they don’t mention that Eve discovered her thighs
before Adam could discover his hands—doesn’t that tell you something?
When Adam discovered his thighs, Eve discovered what was
between hers.
Adam discovered his manhood while Eve discovered magic.
Adam wandered the gardens looking for god—
Eve wondered about god—Eve played with god.
She discovered disgust, she discovered wanting,
taking, hoarding, stealing, loving.

This is Eve in her hidden glory—

The Eve who you have never heard of—
This is the Eve who didn’t need a snake to eat the apple—
This is the Eve who cried. “there was no snake, it was all me.”
when the men started writing their own versions.
This is the Eve who didn’t care if Adam ate it or not.
This is the Eve who longed for something more than Adam.

Imagine people knew that Eve did not fall prey to sin.
Imagine people knew that she was the predator.
Imagine we found out that Eve knew what she was doing.
Imagine how dangerous that would be.

Last Tuesday, Artemis started a bush fire.

The leaves Eve used to cover her modesty are the
same leaves Artemis burned that Tuesday. (the two
were seen conspiring in a Starbucks on Bond Street)
The same leaves the old generation covers you with
will be the same leaves you will light a match to
10 years from now.
Listen. Artemis tells you not to be afraid.
Listen. The goddess of the forest burned her own leaves for freedom.
Who says you can't do the same?
One day you will run and your heels will scrape
the ground so hard it starts a trail-blaze for the girls
who come after.
Eve tells you that you will howl. That you will cry. Labour pains are your punishment for this
(but that's why they invented the epirdural.)
and are you less of a woman for this? no
what is woman?
woman is this–enduring.
listen girl, you will survive this–you will.
but what fool said you had to do it silently?
here is a tip–scream.

And see, you will rise.

they keep calling you a breeze

because they’re frightened of
what you might do when you
discover you are a hurricane.

the center of every poem is this:

i have loved you.
(you may be bad but you are loved)

a small truth:

you move me more in a moment than

the earth moves in a year.

letters from medea (poetry collection) by Salma Deera