The Burning Times

*** this was originally meant to be written out in the shape of a flame; i have no idea how to do that here though. it's a very stream-of-counsciousness poem; i read this once in my English class and only one person understood it.***

fire comes up from the East Moon is full of blood it is blood it is the blood of our mothers the blood of our children the blood of a Goddess's tears she is crying weeping for her lost children Mother Mary in blue blood and water of her birthing come a new king on the throne

He will preach love but those mere humans that follow always must turn love around turn love away turn love to hate and make love a crime but how can love be a crime if God is Love if God made Love if Love is God's gift to the world

but they didn't see this for they were as blind men blinded by fear blinded by greed most of all blinded by gold the kings of men came and threw down their handfuls of straw to fuel the fire the fire that was built upon the bones of women brave women and strong women healing women and loving women

and also wretched women sobbing frightened old women mothers crying out to a God they knew, who yet to them was their accuser their murderer the fire that consumed their humble bones

but God is not that fire

God is a fire in the heart and spirit that reveals how we are all one and thus what i do to you is truly done to me so how could i hate and persecute myself?

but to them God was just like a human, a harsh and petty master but some of them knew not even this of God but only took that name upon themselves as a tool as an excuse for their evils and murders and greeds

and so they took the name of God and turned it into a sword hanging over the head of every innocent woman

and they killed them, the wise women and priestesses and healers and mothers and they took them away from their lands and families and friendships and daughters and loves and forests and fields and sacred places

and ancient knowledge and traditions and wisdom were lost and gone forever and women no more dared to dance on the green hills or to go into the wild places, to the sacred groves and wells of their mothers before them

and these things were lost

and women were killed

and as this Hammer of Witches fell, the women realized that it was the end of an era but they knew that someday in the future their time would return, and they would rise and dance again

but for now........ the Burning Times were here

-1/29/00