The Witch that Would Not Burn

I am the witch that would not burn

Not by their timbers, their matches

Their eyes, Not even in their hearts

In their minds or in their minds’ eyes

A little girl says to her mother:

“Why does she not burn?”

As if I was not there,

As if I had already died

But I had not

So I replied

I will not burn because I am already the flame.

When they realized they could not drown or choke me

They attempted to destroy me

Using the very thing that made me, me.

But I will not be defeated.

They attempted to drive me out but the fire always stays,

Its job, its purpose, its mission

Laid out in divine perfection

Those who did not understand,

May have gotten in the way,

But only temporarily.

They tried to burn my sisters

But they were not defeated either.

You see

They may take the water, the sun, the ground away from the flower

They may yell at it, ignore it, send it hateful energy by the hour

And maybe it will die, maybe it will live

To see another day

And then it will return to the ground and rise again to play.

Wouldn’t it be lovely if they could let the flower be?

To shine, to exist, in complete harmony?

To spend their time focusing on them and what they could be?

And the flower, the witch, the feminine,

Could simply do Her thing.

Even help heal this planet in some way

So that you (and they) may still have a place to play.

Or will they continue to try and diminish her love,

And struggle with her rising again

And again

And again.

What is a witch, anyway?

It is nothing but a wise woman, they say.

Well how could a wise woman be so wrong?

When all she’s revealing is

The truth.

But maybe that’s too hard to chew

Many a thing they believe, thereby moot.

And so they’ve tried to dis-anoint

The queen, from that which (and witch) she has always been.

And yes, wasn’t She surprised when, at first

She sensed the attempt at Her demise.

And She knew she could win with love,

Though it be a hard battle won.

Even the word “that”

Conveys so much.

Not “who,” “whom,” or “her,” but “that”.

What about Her makes her something to be owned?

Is it because they know they could not tame Her

They have tried so hard to do so?

A flower may wilt in one’s hand, and one

Cannot stop a raging river with one’s commands.

And at that wilting and at that movement,

For that they would even make Her wrong!

Naming Her a victim, a drama queen, a fraud.

Slippery, flighty, and too wild to be loved.

But that is not true at all, and deep down don’t they know it.

She does not belong to them

She belongs to Spirit.

She is not an object of their fantasies,

A consequence they make and never see.

How dare She be so bold as to be receptive, so vulnerable.

How dare.

But She does.  It is what She knows.

And they will keep taking and abusing until they are tired of it.

But She does not tire

All of the energy they have spent trying to ruin Her

Makes Her stronger

Every time they put Her in the ground

She rises larger, stronger, more powerful.

They will never be rid of Her, but She may rid of them.

And that was their biggest mistake,

Because this fire they could not take.

I am the witch who would not burn.