Suffer Not

Father,

take me to the hill,

ankles and wrists bound by chains.

Take me to my cross,

that pillar of wood.

 

I shall not resist.

 

Take me to the hill,

for I am the wicche,

a heretic

to be tied to the stake.

 

Mother,

take me to the hill,

my resting mound,

where the spirits of the dead wait.

 

Do not mourn me,

slay me,

for I am the wicche.

Rest my bones upon the wood

and light the match.

 

I shall not resist.

15 thoughts on “Suffer Not

    1. I can’t imagine living back then and being accused x.x This poem was mostly written because of how my mother likes to crucify me over not being Christian. My whole family thinks i’m some devil for not believing in God.

      I rather be slain than give in~

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I’ve always found how angry/pushy/edgy people get about theology, etc. to be very interesting. I’ve always seen that as means to divide people and put barriers up than to really see those contentions and similarities than people otherwise share. I’m sure that’s difficult for you though, but perseverance is a tremendous attribute!

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I somehow find it a bit interesting to. Like fascinating that they can be so fervent in their faith when I see it in a total different light. I’ve since moved past what my family thinks though so that’s nice xD

        Liked by 1 person

      3. I can appreciate that. Not letting someone else bog you down with their thoughts, etc. – can definitely be a challenge when it’s family. I just think that family can sometimes overlook how their hurting their loved ones with their opinions. Slippery slope I’m sure.

        Like

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