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♡ Back Woods Witches first published in Spillover Magazine Issue Three: Anachronism.♡
BACK WOODS WITCHES
Born and raised in a summer haze be different when you
Can't stand the heat. The bead of sweat drip down
Onto a lace white dress, purity from a God that
Should have disowned all men when
They had a chance
Taken from the frying pan and thrown into
Hell, a Lowcountry basin of brine for my death in the
Thick woods turns saints into sinners, fire casting like a witch trial
Think of the martyrs who have come before me
I am the judge, for when the scathing tongues sizzle and
Snap for sensitive flesh, searing the words of ancestors into
My back, licking for release for some semblance
Of weakness, I stand like the Magnolia tree
Never wilting
I become the jury and executioner. Let the others
Who throw stones do so at themselves
Look upon the eyes of my Lord before you see me
They who create life, not destroy it
Ask her for the forgiveness of sins that you bestowed
Upon yourselves. The flames will surround my body, but my
Soul will rest with her in the forest. My breath
Shared with my siblings, dancing alongside family
When I die, lay my body on the banks of the cooling river, and take it
Downstream, the calling of the others will help guide the way
We stand together in loss
Lifetimes of wandering, searching for revenge on the ones
Who did this, never let them out of spindly fingers
Let the vines grow out of my body, our bodies
I am here with them. We dance naked in the night
For the love we never received before. Our God protects
Us here
Bury me in the ground, next to my ancestors, next to the people taken like me
So, I can grow into a beautiful tree. We'll make a forest
Shade others from persecution. Become a safe haven
Let us give new life out of ones snatched away.
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