My mother and I were shamed,
left liable, beguiled, and trialed.
This well-respected man shall pay;
"God, please, take his power away!"
.
The Pastor and Judge tied our wrists in linen,
rope tighter than the heavens!
There, a meadow and a stake,
I began to cry, knowing my fate.
.
The fire cleansed our lies
stars blinked in the quiet, gray sky.
My mother held my trembling hand,
The townsfolk called us traitors to man.
.
The smoke began its wicked climb —
A sermon sang, "It is the witches' time."
They called it justice, called it grace,
As fire reached up to touch my face.
They called us witches,
the obscene,
kerosene washed away our screams.
.
"Witchling, you are now meek!
The Devil's heiress cannot speak!"
Only foul words are repeated,
the serpent's tongue has been depleted."
.
Fire does not only eat —
It opens doors and destroys legacies
As flesh dissolved and bones grew light,
My soul broke free from the town's bite.
The world became silent, smoke thinned,
No pain nor breath, no holy hymn —
just a girl whose town forged her wins.
.
I floated high where spirits sleep,
And landed softly in a place I call: The Sheep Keep.
A place between both curse and crown,
Where shameful souls are weighted down.
.
They will soon wander blind, meek, mild,
The priest, the judge, the neighbor's child.
Each one who had mocked
or closed their eyes
will soon walk in wool as I sanctify.
.
Here truth is shown without disguise —
And sheep forcefully hear their cries.
The regret and anguish heaves from lies:
a soulless spirit's debt
drowning as they beg forgiveness yet.
.
They burned me once
but fire deceives,
It brings those who don't believe.
So now I stand, no longer meek —
The Shepherdess
of The Sheep Keep.