A midwife proficient in herbs,
came under suspicion
in the Burning Times.
Tortured, tried, convicted,
condemned to the stake
dragged to it screaming.
Heartless uncaring tormentors
bound her to the stake laughing.
Her sobbing and tears
drowned out by
the clamor
of the rabid crowd
joyously awaiting
the day’s entertainment,
shouting in unison,
Burn the witch!
Burn the witch!
The stake lit,
her screams above the flames
the crackling, devouring fire
silencing her wailing screams.
When her life burned out,
in the malevolent blaze,
in the foul smelling
dark, smoke filled air,
her soul found release in heaven.
When her tormentors died,
they burned in hell.
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
Age 80. Cancer survivor since 3 years ago. Work out 3 times a week. Ride my exercise bike 2 hours a day. Live a solo reclusive life. Retired a year ago from working with the elderly in a nonprofit. Started writing poetry a little over a year ago; most poems I write are fictional but some are not. Spiritual with a permanent spiritual experience. Write poems on many subjects. Always researching for many of my poems and because of my unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After reading and hearing about many near death experiences and death bed visions, I believe death is the ultimate awakening and the relocation of a lifetime. You may believe differently, but you have the right to be wrong -- I'm just messing with you. :-)
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