Ba‘al Zebûb
Posted by Erich Shelton on Saturday, October 3, 2009
Under: Poetry
Though we were removed from the greatest danger during the war, one would often hear rockets and explosions beyond the hills. The tanks would drive past our front gate, reminding us that though we were in the "Green Zone," war was still reality.
I cannot remember how we met Bill. As a mercenary, he went from war-zone to war-zone, fighting for whichever side would pay him the most. He showed up at our home and being a fellow Westerner in the Middle East there was always a common bond that naturally occurred. On so many levels he was, on appearance, a likable friendly guy. His dark hair was cropped short. Ruggedly handsome, he was muscular and lean. Under other circumstances, he might even be the type of person you would introduce to your sister or best friend.
It didn't take long, however, to see the bond and things we had in common were only surface-deep. Which wars he had traveled to or where he went afterwards I do not know. He stayed in our home for a short while. This poem is about a brief encounter with Bill.
Bill was a mercenary.
An innocent smile and so young,
most would never know his concealment;
his ambition towards evil.
He could have been my brother,
my friend,
my neighbour,
my lover.
Malevolence, a word unfamiliar to most,
was the driving force which followed him.
From country to country, he grazed
on blood and flesh.
Was this the Apostle Paul's example
of a man with a seared conscience?
Was this handsome, striking man
any longer his mother's son?
What sinister force lived in Bill's soul?
What pain could have happened?
What disaster did Bill experience?
The answers remain mysterious.
From my memory he was a Midwesterner.
I'm not sure how he ended at our doorstep.
But like any stray dog, looking for shelter,
we let him in without question.
We fed him and clothed him.
We nursed his wounds and gave him drink.
We treated him as our brother.
Isn't this the command of Christ?
His growls in the night would
awaken us from silent sleep.
An animal, he would prowl outside
just beneath the windowpanes.
The only thing separating us
was a thin torn sheet of plastic.
The Stygian night made seeing futile.
We were left only with the noise.
The voice of Ba‘al Zebûb
charged through the bedroom.
The only other sound, bombing,
and our own heavy breath.
We lay beneath the mosquito nets,
and listened to his demonic groans;
Thick, guttural, rasping babel.
Paralyzed we pulled the netting close.
Three days later,
we sat down with Bill.
Frothy foam dripped from his chin
as we prayed for deliverance.
His piercing blue eyes, masked by blood,
stared defiantly into my own.
Shouts of unintelligible sounds and words.
A man, or maybe not.
He gripped tightly onto the chair,
mocking and laughing at Jesus.
The sturdy chair snapped, like a small twig.
Bill stood and left the room.
I cannot remember how we met Bill. As a mercenary, he went from war-zone to war-zone, fighting for whichever side would pay him the most. He showed up at our home and being a fellow Westerner in the Middle East there was always a common bond that naturally occurred. On so many levels he was, on appearance, a likable friendly guy. His dark hair was cropped short. Ruggedly handsome, he was muscular and lean. Under other circumstances, he might even be the type of person you would introduce to your sister or best friend.
It didn't take long, however, to see the bond and things we had in common were only surface-deep. Which wars he had traveled to or where he went afterwards I do not know. He stayed in our home for a short while. This poem is about a brief encounter with Bill.
Bill was a mercenary.
An innocent smile and so young,
most would never know his concealment;
his ambition towards evil.
He could have been my brother,
my friend,
my neighbour,
my lover.
Malevolence, a word unfamiliar to most,
was the driving force which followed him.
From country to country, he grazed
on blood and flesh.
Was this the Apostle Paul's example
of a man with a seared conscience?
Was this handsome, striking man
any longer his mother's son?
What sinister force lived in Bill's soul?
What pain could have happened?
What disaster did Bill experience?
The answers remain mysterious.
From my memory he was a Midwesterner.
I'm not sure how he ended at our doorstep.
But like any stray dog, looking for shelter,
we let him in without question.
We fed him and clothed him.
We nursed his wounds and gave him drink.
We treated him as our brother.
Isn't this the command of Christ?
His growls in the night would
awaken us from silent sleep.
An animal, he would prowl outside
just beneath the windowpanes.
The only thing separating us
was a thin torn sheet of plastic.
The Stygian night made seeing futile.
We were left only with the noise.
The voice of Ba‘al Zebûb
charged through the bedroom.
The only other sound, bombing,
and our own heavy breath.
We lay beneath the mosquito nets,
and listened to his demonic groans;
Thick, guttural, rasping babel.
Paralyzed we pulled the netting close.
Three days later,
we sat down with Bill.
Frothy foam dripped from his chin
as we prayed for deliverance.
His piercing blue eyes, masked by blood,
stared defiantly into my own.
Shouts of unintelligible sounds and words.
A man, or maybe not.
He gripped tightly onto the chair,
mocking and laughing at Jesus.
The sturdy chair snapped, like a small twig.
Bill stood and left the room.
In : Poetry
Tags: lebanon travel
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I currently teach graphic design and illustration at the University of Southern Indiana. I really love teaching and the challenges which this provides me. It not only keeps me young, but forces me to be that ongoing learner; sometimes referred to as a life-long learner. This goal of continuing to learn as finally brought me back to the role as a student as well. Some years ago I started and MFA, but due to an automobile accident was unable to complete it.
I have just been accepted as a student at the Academy of Art University in San Francisco and will finally be able to work on the MFA. The great thing is I can continue working at USI and will visit the AAU in the summer. The rest of the time I am able to take my courses online.
Like technology and life, it is constantly changing and evolving. What a joy to be part of it all!
