Coven

Sleep hath not engendered me for ages

Yet mine eyes alight, woken from slumber

Lo, peering below, four frightened faces.

Upon a mere gaze they slither away

As though been foretold their present demise.

This soul within knows no wrathful vengeance

For countless offerings did please it well

Safety now resides inside this presence

Still, evident is the fear which lingers.

Intentions belonging to the quattro

Seep from their undisciplined emotions.

I must now descend from my bonds.

Behold

For though this mind of mine has forgotten

-perhaps there never were- incantations

Calling on virtue and will, being drained,

Reconstitute spiritual victuals.

Blackened gobs of sinful flesh separate

From the weakened faces of those women.

Nearly empty already, are they now?

Another coven taking my birthright?

Fearful turns to horror, and my soul shouts

‘Fear not for I can do no harm to you.’

Alas, being not attuned, they hear not.

Gooey globs of deeds done wrong drifting near

Amalgamate through this, my outstretched hand

Returning my forces necessary

To aid in breaking these bonds and descend.

In all but one, such fear hath driven them

To hasten or otherwise to cower

For this great deed of cleansing their spirit.

Know they not what goodness I have performed?

Cleansed are they, bereft of all wrongdoing

For what was once for them to bear is now

Both strength and tremendous burden for me.

My prayer to God be they see this truth,

For fear of me would diminish power,

Thereafter would my being cease to be.

A whisper sent in the realm of the soul

Falls upon the one without fear.

‘Now then’

Thus say I to such a willful vessel

’What meaning hath thou placed upon taking

This, my body, from its rightful dwelling?

And wherefore doth it now reside in time?’

Such a dutiful medium to take

My hand and lead me to a wall draped with

Cloth which, covering a hole, blocks the light.

When drawn to the side, reveals a landscape

Which I remember fondly, covered with

Emerald hills and blue sapphire skies.

The scene changes continually as

My enchanted darling recites to me:

’Myself and my sisters believe you be

One of our own gone rouge to the country.

To practice the dark arts and enhance her

Capabilities very selfishly.

Against new belief, Christianity.

Thought we her actions may have enhanced

Her natural beauty, yet now I see

Our judgement was wrong, and she is not thee.’

Outside, my beloved landscape twisted

And morphed into unrecognizable

Totems, monoliths, and dwellings scattered

Until coming to rest as it is now

In those sacred Irish hills yet deformed.

Sleep, it seems, had finally enveloped.

Would that I had been allowed to my rest,

Covering the window again, it falls

To uncover the blank wall behind it.

’Rightly speak thee unto me, my sister.

Indeed I am not she, for the powers

Which I perform can be used only for

Benefit of sinners, and I appear

As they wish me to be, and nothing more.’

Having learned nothing for their mission thus,

Embarrassed was my being for being

Naught but a legend of times long since passed

Then took my leave of this strange new coven.