The Witch

The smell of rain trapped in her hair,

Moon dust sprinkled in her eyes,

She reads Tarot just to know the way forward,

And a crystal ball to gaze at the past,

Wondering what fate will hold.


You hid from view a poisoned chalice,

To strike me down for fear I’d speak,

Tell of the injustices and strange practices you preach,

I was a fool to think you’d honour my truth!

Fear not, I’ll toast you, enjoy your victory.

You are not my end, just my catalyst,

Hold me close to the light, for I am your antidote – you will do well to listen.