Poems

Salem Witch Trail

She'd stroll through the village,

eyes fixed on the ground.

When greeted, 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 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.

When questioned, the girl,

she could not tell,

what power had she,

if not by spell;

Could take hold of a man,

lead him into temptation,

if not by 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 then granted,

her sins pronounced clean,

by the men who condemned he,

to death, at sixteen.

By: Christy Ann Martine