she'd stroll through the village,
eyes fixed on the ground.
when fretted, the girl
scarcely uttered a sound.
since her parents death
a few years back,
she's lived on her own
in no more than a shack.
her hair as red
as the fire of hell,
in the thoughts of men
her innocence fell.
they'd follow her in
the light of day,
besot by her
peculiar way.
they'd leave their wives
in the dark of the night,
to spy as she danced
beneath the moonlight.
one woman swore by god
that she witnessed,
her reading a book
of magic so wicked.
no wonder her husband
held such foolish notions.
possessed by this witch
and all her love potions.
could take hold of a man,
lead him into temptation,
if not be witchcraft
or some incantation.
her persuasion rooted
in evil they deemed.
her protest heard
by way of her screams.
when they put her inside
the old metal pot,
it's with the will of the devil
himself that she fought.
it was said her fate would be redeemed,
if her body stayed below surface.
named pure again in the eyes of god
by those who stood to bear witness.
fully submerged,
she struggled for air,
sinking, the angel
with fire for hair.
with bibles in hand,
they gathered around
together they shouted
while watching her drown.
redemption the granted,
her sins pronounced clean,
by the men who condemned her,
to death, at sixteen
~ c.a.m
