Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2198744-The-Witness
Rated: ASR · Poetry · Gothic · #2198744
A free-style poem, an eye-witness account.
The Witness

I saw it, you know.
When they gathered in clusters of whispers
of rumors;
the pointing of fingers,
I saw it, you know.
They gathered around, made accusations,
they pushed,
they prodded and told her to go.

I saw it, you know,
when the voices were raised and she turned away
and she walked,
her head bowed down so low.
Who threw the first stone?
I wish I could tell you, put a name to a face,
but it does not matter.
They all joined in; I saw them.

And I watched as she stumbled,
tears blurring my eyes, for it was no more than the wagging
of tongues
that brought those rocks crashing.
A sign of weakness?
They were on it in a flash, exploiting her pain for their gain,
I saw it, you know.

I watched them emerge.
Out of her back they came flying and soaring and the very air
was filled with
their cawing.
Carrion crows, enraged by her plight,
they wheeled and they dived down attacking their victims
with beak and with claw.
Yes, I saw it, you know.

When all were bloodied,
were down on the ground, turned crimson with gore,
back to that girl
I watched them soar.
She had not paused in her steps,
a banishment made would not be rescinded, she’d never belonged there...
I saw, don’t you know.

Let her go free!
She had been tried and found guilty when all the time innocent,
a witch in the village,
no proof,
not a shred,
but with tongues they condemned,
and in ignorance acted.
They deserved what they got.
Believe me,
I beseech you to show her some mercy,
call back the hunt
and let her go free;
for the witchcraft was practised by...
© Copyright 2019 hullabaloo22 (hullabaloo22 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2198744-The-Witness