poetry

Witch.

 

dark darkness loneliness mystery

Wherever I walk
one million fires
follow me.

[she is the butcher
and a weaver]

Whenever I talk
one million serpents
spill from me.

[she is the mother
and a deceiver]

My tongue is a dagger
and faithful servant,
delivering justice
to the soft throats
of holy men and traitors.

If you do not fear me
you do not fear the end,
if you cannot kill me
you cannot kill your shame.

[sacred is her wound,
for it redeems the light
with the blood of her womb.]

Nancy Botta ©2019

Standard

11 thoughts on “Witch.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s