Sunday, February 19, 2023

The Making of a Witch




She dreamt one day grace would provide a child

With wild charms to fill her empty hands

But each day a sad and hollow tone rang

In empty space where arms held nought but air.

Time would not forgive the long wait but she,

Glad once to hesitate, could not move on

Found prayers meant nothing and before too long

A wind had whipped her saddened soul to madness.

Her friends, no barrier to despair, cared not

Inviting her to view their newborns dressed

In white, baptised at altar, sung for, blessed.

With shame her tears could not drown their gladdened hearts

She gave up her home and wandered barefoot

Amongst the trees and screamed for mercy, raging

On and on, hard against her barren fate

Still, the leaves said nothing, withered and fell

To start again earth’s dark and holy toil.


No comments:

Post a Comment

A Little Bit of Poetry from The Kitchen of Life

Carefully Curated

  Objects on a table Three, grouped A rabbit skull, a vase, a lamp with a fancy cable. Carefully curated objects Placed on a table. The pers...