This poem is inspired by the series of Witch trials that took place in colonial Massachusetts between February 1692 and 1693, famously known as the Salem Witch trials.
The Witch
There once lived a woman, alone on the mountain top,
So infamous, that no child strayed past in play or in jest,
lest she may drop, the child in her burning black pot,
The pot that brewed magic potions and evil in her breast.
So wicked was she, to Satan did she pray,
And cast her dark spells on the village,
Condemning the people to die of plague,
Countless souls did she and Satan pillage,
Until one night, tired of her afflictions, the villagers did hunt,
with pitchforks and torches, her hut did they burn,
But the sly woman fled, rather than confront,
Her home razed and the meadows burned for her never to return.
“O’ Magistrate, ’tis sad they should hate, what they do not understand,
And slander the innocent, beat the weak,
No magic potions, no evil spells did I brew, upon this blessed land,
All I hoped was to undo, the pain of the poor and hurt of the meek,
These wild herbs, some prayers and my two hands,
is all I used to cure,
yet they slander me, banish me from my meadow lands?
‘Tis as well the birds warned me, & I fled alone and obscure”
The magistrate believed her doleful story,
yet to the gallows did he her send,
For what else could he have done? On him the masses would have turned,
With knives and pitchforks, tempestuously burned,
Why do they hate that which they fear?
To hate than to reason, to kill than to save; is hardly a glitch,
To the gallows did she leave, with a prayer and a tear,
While the crowds in unison sang, “Burn, burn the Evil Witch”
P.S- This poem including all original works on this blog unless explicitly stated are © copyrighted to Ubecute 2014.
UBeCute 
Your words put mine to shame woman! I love it. I have always been the witch. My hut has been burned to the ground more times than I can count. Somehow I manage to know better than to run to the magistrate. Perhaps it is ancestral memory serving its purpose.
Your words speak to me deeply. Thank you for sharing them with this ‘feeble’ old man. 😉
You can be sure I’ll be coming back. We are strangers in a strange land are we not? It is better to have companions when we are journeying into the unknown. We know that the unknown is not always to be feared, but prudence and preparation are also good judgement; so I’ve got your back, or maybe the pack. LOL..
Keep up the good fun!
I am truly at a loss of words. No idea how to thank you for your kindness, in taking the time to read my words and share your wonderful thoughts.
I feel very privileged to have wonderful readers like yourself. So thank you. Honestly, I think we all have the witch within us. Its what makes us strong and our words meaningful.
I hope the witch is sitting in our hearts, enjoying the last laugh. 🙂
You’re soooo sweeeet! ❤
It is a joy to read your writing, not a kindness granted to you in my thinking (as well).
The witch is assuredly in me, but she also has a shaman. They get at each other sometimes but they teach each other by doing so. Mostly, I think one day they will just sing together. It's great fun already anyway!
There will be no last laugh if I have anything to say about it. Laughter will continue on into eternity, as it should, and I will it! That was purposeful btw. Till next we speak: peace and harmony, joy and happiness!