Smite those, Punish those

Snow fell from the sky,

Collected in clumps,

Like busy bees surrounding their queen.

Her ice cold skin,

Her frost-glazed eyes glinted like

Shards of ice.

Her fingers, blackened from frostbite.

Twisted, turned in anger.

They left her here,

To die.

The howling blizzard echoes off the icy chasms of

Finland.

Echoes among the barren wasteland.

And dies somewhere in the spruce.

Sun scorched the farmland.

Amber beams of energy.

The grass delicate and fragile,

Like the tinder for an uncontrollable anguish.

Her hair was fire,

Her eyes where fire,

Her skin was fire,

Her soul was fire.

But all was left was a charred stump,

A mere piece of charcoal to remember her by.

The bush fire raged,

And extinguished itself.

Her snow raced across mountains.

Her fire raced across barren deserts.

With each other, they could

Comfort each other.

Memories of "Witch, Witch, Witch."

Vanished like an illusion.

Their hands met and they chanted.

A deep, dark curse.

From the very core of their existence.

You messed with the wrong witch,

You wronged us and you wronged many others.

You burnt us, you drowned us, you froze us, you starved us.

But you where wrong.

We merely had faith in ourselves.

You messed with the wrong witch.

And even though millennia hath passed.

Our souls live on.

Real sinners begone.

Reviews

[Sean Cairns]

I like the idea of what was considered heresy is now known as enlightenment, and the juxtaposition of hot and cold is an interesting approach. I dunno, I just wanted to leave a comment I guess.