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PROSE

Morgana

“Burn the witch!”

You fools, I have been burning since I was born

Only you could not smell the smoke

/

Scorched my mother’s womb

So that she could not bear any more children

I am the poison apple fallen from her withered tree

/

You men who think you own the world

Care nothing for those that brought you into it

/

Yes, burn the witch

But it will not be to Hell where you send me

Instead I will inherit your kingdom of Heaven

/

And when you die,

Should you try to enter into my house I will ask thee,

Who are you to seek entrance under my roof?

/

Should I grant you welcome

While your mother, your sisters,

Your daughters are still smoldering upon the hill

/

Yes, burn the witch

But do not tell her what leads you to believe she is one

/

Wouldst thou set thine own self ablaze?

No, you would be licked by one flame and weep

For your mother’s milk

/

Do not think that you can fool me

The peace I display towards thee is only courtesy

Were I to speak my mind you would cry

To your god of blasphemy

/

But I cannot testify in praise of that which

Intended to create me only as the lesser

I would rather be blinded by the sun’s shine

Or perhaps cast into it to die

/

Do not look upon mine self and proclaim me witch

For it is only your god whom demands the death of me

RETURN