Her black charcoal heart
Thirst for life taken by accusation
Witch! They cried, needles pierce her skin
Pain sears her mind.
Cold river ducking
to cries of Burn the Witch!
The pyre built; her body tied
Flames grow higher, her soul has fled
Her body burns. They hear no screams
Disappointment spreads
Great clap of thunder silenced all standing
Rain puts out the fire,
in ash she stands in perfect form,
hands clasped in prayer
Put all watching to shame
Handfuls of ash carried home
Buried by the doorstep
Let no evil finger point this way…
© anita dawes 2020
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