Caricamento in corso...

Let It Burn

In a village as old as time,
Sat a small, brown cottage,
Its only resident, an older woman,
Who’s purpose was healing,
Tending wounds, soothing burns,
Bringing babes into the world,
The village would flock to her,
To heal their pains,
 
She sat one day, upon her quaint porch,
Humming a bawdy tune,
When all of a sudden,
A ominous cloud fell upon her home,
A man, in black robes, holding a cross,
asked her what her business was,
A healer, she answered,
With skepticism in his eyes,
He turned and left,
 
A storm came upon the village,
Wild and crazed,
The woman sat chilled,
Cold fingers of fear upon her heart,
She felt her life beginning to shift,
The storm had lifted,
And with the new morning,
Came a rap upon her door,
The man was back,
 
He told me I was accused,
Of what, I asked,
He did not answer,
Slowly he led me to the center of town,
A makeshift stand had been built,
And upon it I stood,
They threw their accusations,
Their prejudices,
Their hate,
I knew deep down,
I was condemned before I was judged,
 
I hold no hate for them,
Those simple-minded people,
For how could they stand against
a man of god?
Witch, witch, witch!
I was stripped,
I was branded,
I was humiliated,
Sentenced to burn,
For crimes I did not commit,
 
The searing sun burnt down upon me,
As I waited for the flames to consume me,
Their chants echo through my mind,
I feel the flames licking my feet,
Closing my eyes, I try to block out the pain,
With all my strength I try to numb my body,
With my last breath, I screamed to them,
I told them they were forgiven,
As my scream rent the air,
I let sweet oblivion claim me.

Altre opere di Jessalynn D'ghent...



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