by Janine Phillips
her shadowed self reflected
in the shadowed self of me.
i cringed in sleep-filled fear
and cried her tortured tears.
friends i’d never known
consumed by flames before me.
i ran through muddied streets
please don’t let them burn me.
she stole into my memories
crying out for peace
and haunted my nights
and visions
seeking soul release.
stripped and strapped and tortured
mary margaret was condemned
for healing, loving
nurturing
and not living like the rest.
her captors mocked her greatly
and since she did confess
to working with her herbs
and chanting changing words
they took pity on her soul
and granted her request.
they would not burn her alive
hanging would be best.
they stripped her beaten body
tied a rope around her throat
then led her through the town
dragged by a horse-drawn cart.
her husband and her children
watched on, terrified
their shrieks and wails echoed loud
o’er hill and country side.
the townsfolk had no gallows
instead they chose a tree
and slung a rope around a limb
for everyone to see.
they hoisted up the woman
bleeding, broken with defeat
and ridiculed her lewdly
but of them she paid no heed.
she chanted to her Mother
crying out in pain
as they wove the rope around her neck
she whispered her Mother’s names.
and as the noose it tightened
her children looked on, frightened.
she wept a tear of sorrow
for their motherless tomorrow.
she gasped her final breath
enfolded in the arms of death.
and with her final sigh
whispered one last goodbye.
Janina Grey 