The Witch and the Holy Man
A poem
“She must be caught!” The priest insisted Unhinged by fear Many enlisted Joining the cause As he insisted They brayed for witches’ blood.
Though not suspect The truth he twisted The missing girl Who had resisted His fitful hand Upon her thighs His lust for flesh Unsatisfied.
Those who doubted Held their tongues The few who knew The things he’d done From crying daughters And from sons And whispers Of a murdered nun.
In the woods The young girl cried Like those before her Who had tried To outrun his unholy lies Some disappeared But none survived.
Forbidden flesh Had him obsessed And any That his crime confessed Were duly labeled As possessed Or said with Satan to have lain Incriminating Therefore slain.
The girl was found Her time had come The young girl wished she had not run No home was there for her return For it had mysteriously burned Her parents taken by the flames Now called a witch The girl was blamed.
A witch she was For she had spurned The holy man And she would burn Before the crowd Who never learned That each of them Would have their turn.






