In the Dark Wood.

Lingering deep in the dark wood
lies the deep magic,
created at the birth of the world.

It slumbers still, its power resting,
until one who has unlocked its mystery
calls upon it.

She is one who has that deep knowledge,
the power to heal and restore,
a wise woman she.

Called upon by rich and poor,
she gave unstintingly,
her fame growing with each healing.

A Witch the Church called her,
though she asked nothing,
and did only what they could not,
despite their books and candles.

The stake was piled high,
with wood and kindling
when they led her out,
and those that had sought her healing,
were those that now jeered and spat on her.

Silent was she as they tied her tight,
and wheeled a burning brand,
only her eyes spoke of sadness
and the frailties of humankind.

As the kindling was lit,
she began to sing,
to sing the deep song,
the one that had brought the world to birth,
that created sky and sea.

Entranced, the crowd fell silent,
their mischief clear to each and everyone,
as her voice sang out the words of creation,
that same creation heard her plea,
and took pity on her,
and displayed its disgust
with the perfidy of mankind.

And so the flames that roared and leapt all about her,
consumed village and villagers,
leaving only her and the pyre untouched.