The Story of a Witch: Part Four

One day,

the girl-witch woke up 

in the middle of a fire storm.

Raging terror,

and chilling quiet,

and pain too hurt to coddle.

‘This is not like where the fairy water runs free,” she thought. 

She put her feet as roots in the ground 

through frayed nerves and

sharp sticks.

She looked up with her voice 

on a shrieking prayer.

Her tears ran tracks

on soundwaves only

mice could hear.

It seemed, 

the time had come for the girl-witch

to leave as

smoke cinders,

on dying grass.

She remembered her memories,

and had walked on enough

ill-advised roads to 

find herself walking 

right up and out of

her burning, 

tortured,

girl-witch 

body. 

She thought,

“I am over now, a loop closed

a story ended.”

And all she had left of herself was the taste

of salt and bone.

On a deep sigh, 

A large breath

A wind gust,

Poof!

The girl-witch was,

Nowhere. 

Then,

in the company of snakes and

butterflies and

under the protection of the 

yellowjackets outside of 

her windows.

The rain fell,

and the sun shined,

and a seed dropped, delicious,

into the cavernous dark

of the Earth.

All of the sudden, 

the girl-witch was no longer nowhere,

But, 

somewhere.

And the girl-witch was 

“Girl,”

No longer.