i am a wooden cross
with a young girl strapped to
my chest. she is crying, i can
feel the fear, her desperation , running
through her body, thrashing as
she tries to break free of the bonds.
'are you a witch?' they ask her,
the crowd standing in front is
staring at her, waiting on her
next words. she weakly denies but
they are angered and feel defied.
at the bottom of my body, beneath
her feet, lies kindle and they touch
a burning torch to the loose straw and
immediately it flares up into flames,
beginning to burn my base.
the girl screams out, she doesn't deserve this,
she never wanted any of this. 'witch, witch' the
crowd chants as the fire crawls up my structure.
i can feel her fear as she tries to break free, the fear
grips my soul and there is nothing that i can do
but to hold her in place as she burns for crimes
that she did not commit.
i still have questions of my own.
