One would easily conclude
that she was in fact,
a witch.
It was not the time,
nor her spelling,
she did not wield a broom
or don a pointed
hat
and yet
we forget
the difference between legend
and lore
we pretend not to see
so we may forget
why we hide
(this information)
or face
persecution.
The insolent one stays inside the lines,
obeys or Believes
that there is a difference between magic
and living, despite
the few that knew
what they have seen or felt
and hid their skeletons
behind the cross.
The witch files her nails
and emits wisps of smoke,
she ruffles through the leaves
for a recipe to reverse
the ingested poison
and faith
found her
scratching the margins,
filling the white space
with letters
to correspond with method
and madness,
she blends in
like a mother.
Painting by János Rombauer [Public domain].
