A Witches Prayer

D. Banning
In darkness comes the Hallows night
As steam arises high in flight
Above a blackened cauldron's light.

A bear's tooth lay beside the fire
Incense wreaks a strong desire
While lurking in the silent mire.

A ripened fig, a root, a sprig of tree
Placed upon her gnarled knee
She stirs the pot and thinks of thee.

A bats wing fallen to the toss
A stone amidst the covered moss
A sacred silver, once blessed, cross.

"Oh sainted one come forth they name
And take me from my body lame
And give it purpose in life's game"

"My hands are tired, my heart is weak
Replace for me what now is meek
And give to me what I do seek."

"My purpose I have yet to find
A goal intended cursed in time
Has found me lost in my soul's mind."

"I need the strength that I once had
To cure the evil and the bad
To make those happy that are sad."

"Oh sainted one as I sit and stir
I repent the passing of my err
Please give to me as I once were."

"A presence in this world we know
The sins of those that I see grow
Allow me now to make them go."

"One last request Oh sainted guide
Take all the ills I see and hide
Life's precious fruits lay at my side."

"Make me worthy of your task
For this is all that I could ask
My wish to you is now my last."

The fire roared the pot did boil
She heard a voice amid her toil
That beckoned her to her own soil.

The walls they shook the rafters cried
The winds engulfed the darkened skies
And tears were brought unto her eyes.

She sat in silence, hands spread wide
And knew her wish had been applied
Alone at peace she sat and cried.

The flames recessed the voices near
Were not the ones she use to hearT
he saintly one had calmed her fear.

And now her work began anew
The magic that she had did spew
Spread forth among life's treasured few.

She speaks to you "Seek your peace
In your own self where it did cease
Take now your love and show release."

Published by D. Banning

A free lance writer and illustrator with over 30 years experience in the art industry.  View profile

1 Comments

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  • Gabor Hardy6/17/2009

    Indeed I am blessed by the reading of this poem. Once I was a healer and could suck the poison out of souls. But, it is within my soul that I died to this gift. Never more I said shall I minister to ungrateful wretch. Now I see the light does grow and shines on within my soul. A little discretion and a heap of praise does advance forth in the annointed way. Something noble springs forth from the cold dirt of fear and despair. By virtue of this poem my souls right do I restore. As need of healing grows my prowess shall nevermore equal less.

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