Beneath an eerie moon, the forbidden...danced...colored red with shame.

Swallowed by denial and frightened...they sought for others to blame.

Thus, tangled in a web of lies, spun by a child waging war;

Whose pinkened-cheeks and questioned-virtue disguised innocence no more.

 

Under powered wigs and collared shirts, blooms the arrogance of man.

Amongst forked tongues and righteous beliefs...lies and deception began.

To avoid one's own ruse and sin, fingers point in false direction.

Confession leads to salvation with the court's and God's protection.

 

A blackened heart, hidden within a little girl's charade of tears.

The guilty avoid disdainful acclaim, playing on people's fears.

Blind to innocence, the die is cast against foe and even friend.

God-fearing souls - at the mercy of one girl's game of make-pretend.

 

Selfish hopes and dreams inspire worldly gains and personal glory.

To every bent ear...loose lips conjure a fabricated story.

Good names were besmirched; suspicion focused an eye on one and all.

Judged by Bible-toting members of society who stood tall.

 

The cry of witchcraft...a frozen accusation on many lips.

Guilty by association, they stood before pointed fingertips.

With buckled, high-heel shoes they walked cobblestone roads with heads held high;

Seeking out the devil and his consorts...based on one stupid lie.

 

Farther inland they rode with horses, dragging their cart of accused;

Soon to face the girls they had allegedly frightened and abused.

 

Hoping to crush a confession from the guilty...with giant boulders.

Walking a double-edged sword...a forced lie weighted honest shoulders.

 

They tried innocent folk with any evidence they could produce.

Without a confession...the guilty would swing from the hangman's noose.

Searching for the ladder to Heaven...clinging to the bottom rungs,

But God will filter those with shriveled hearts and lying, blackened tongues!

 

Souls were compromised...lives were lost...without a rational excuse.

While the truly guilty watched them swing...swinging from the hangman's noose.

 

 

Copyright 2006 - Sheila Roy