Crimson Witch
fog rolled ‘cross the lowlands
smothering damp and languid
chilled and dense with dread
ominous and threatening
twilight having receeded
moonlight labored hard
shouldering its way
through the thickening shroud
the gnarled shape of leaf-dead trees
with their spindly spiken’d branches
thrust knobbed and twisted skyward
disappearing into the hovering murk
muffled deep within the gloom
the throbbing drone of gathered voices
locked in dark entangled chant
foreboding as a funeral dirge
the moonlit fog glowed smokey silver
stirred and tumbled by the night wind
the trunken’d trees bent snd swayed uneven
slumping like the huddled coven beneath them
the blood-thick sterling fog breathed
wafting between thick and thin
there could be seen in veiled glances
a menacing black-hooded presence
and laid upon a grey rock slab
resplendent in a crimson cloak of satin
a comely beauty hair of brilliant red
still and quiet as a corpse
but a fire burned within her eyes
deep and green as precious emerald
lips synced with the hooded presence
forming in a demon’s prayer
the crimson goddess slowly rising
floating off above the rock
as the figure clad in the hood of darkness
raised his arms high above his head
came the goddess standing upright
feet now lowering upon the altar
her cloak gently flowed and billowed
then fell open to reveal her naked
looking down at the hooded figure
whose hands crackled amber lightening
and reaching forward sure and slow
laid those blazing hands upon her
in a burst of golden fire
the goddess’s lips began to wildly twitch
when in a voice to freeze one’s marrow
she cried out, “I have life again!”
all those ’round her bowed in worship
then circled in a crazen coven’s dance
to exclaim in voices full and resonant
“your reign of darkness begins now priestess,
rejoice! tis the season of the crimson witch!”
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2018
DAY 13