MADE TO RISE

Body of a Witch

With time came the burial of women
Silent bodies in light, no lies they did mask
For nothing she was not forgiven
By sorcerers of the cruel task

Every man believed her to blame
Weaving in her widowed home, Isabel Stone
So recently called by a different name
Until she would be lowered, flesh, dress and bone

And so it’s as all, like this story goes
Isabel daunting, affixed in the air 
Her body spread wide, decomposed
One atom grew into a red pear

A boy came to eat it, pretty, pure food
Upon his first bite, said, “oh, so good.”