once i met a girl, who wove stories out of air. she spoke of magic and life free of the restrictions of girlhood. she spoke of witchcraft and goddesses. of something dark and divine. her words were heavy and sweet and she tasted of fire and freedom.

they came for her in the night, the men of the town feared her and her truths. of the idea's she brought to the other women. they tied a boulder to her and watched her sink. 

the crows stopped their cawing and the townsmen held their breath. she did not float back up. 

they claimed she had corrupted me but that i could repent. i could repent. i could repent. i could repent.

so i did. i prayed to a god who had abandoned me, i prayed to a god who cared for me naught, for forgiveness i didn't need nor desire.

she came to me again, when the sky was void of light. alive and breathing and alive.

she whispered in my ears of the goddess who gave her life.

but first, she said, we must burn. 

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my words are blasphemy, burn me at the stake