Hush, little witch, don’t say a word;
They’re coming with fire and rope
To tie you to the radiator.

Speak softly, little witch,
Hide away your hat and cloak;
The cat mustn't mew in the corner,
And you must sweep the floors.

The hearts of mortals are weak,
they see shadows and devils within you.
Hush, little witch, quiet your angels.

Feed them lies, little witch,
Don’t let them see you!
The truth will not set you free, here, it will let you burn!
For all your power to do good, they are blind, little witch;
Let them see with your eyes, but pretend they are not yours.

Oh, child why are you crying?
You were born into madness
And you will die in madness,
Lest you  end in fire.

Servants of love, this is our curse;
Our horrible and beautiful curse.
I’m sorry.
This isn’t what I wanted for you,
But it’s the price we pay to be angels.

TWO loves had I. Now both are dead,
And both are marked by tombstones white.
The one stands in the churchyard near,
The other hid from mortal sight.

The name on one all men may read,        
And learn who lies beneath the stone;
The other name is written where
No eyes can read it but my own.

On one I plant a living flower,
And cherish it with loving hands;      
I shun the single withered leaf
That tells me where the other stands.

To that white tombstone on the hill
In summer days I often go;
From this white stone that nearer lies
I turn me with unuttered woe.

O God, I pray, if love must die,
And make no more of life a part,
Let witness be where all can see,
And not within a living heart.

If you have to cry in public,
the sauna at the Y is a good place to do it.
As long as you are quiet, everyone's eyes
are averted.
Steam clouds vision and the tears drip with sweat to the wet musty floor.

I think about my dad as I take in the thick hot air.
I think about his final moments a decade earlier when in the middle of sleep he just
stopped breathing.
It was so calm and brief he didn't wake mom.
Was he giving her what he thought she wanted? no debt? a house? funds to support her church and those she would call her grandsons?

I fixate on that last breath
that final thought.
If it was lucid, I suspect it was encouraging and hopeful.
A promise of a rainbow after a storm.