The Healer's Curse
A Bayou Ballad
A blind woman sits upon old cypress knees
Singing her lonely song
Gators gliding by tupelo trees
Waiting to right a wrong
Sitting there sobbing for centuries
Her black hair; six feet long
She was a “traiteur,” meaning a healer
Living in her humble shack
Folks on the bayou acclaimed this feeler
Restoring their health of lack
Till her meet, one wheeler and dealer
Who traded her gifts for black
...
Two miles deep in the swamp
Where it is always ninety degrees
Lives a woman who never grows old
But her earnest spirit has gone cold
She lost her eyes and all her decrees
From a curse on a coin
She never will rejoin
But the devil always does what he, please
...
He was a tall, dark, and handsome guy
With quickly failing sight
The ponds of peas were his last try
He found her home at night
Greeting him, she begged, “Please don’t cry
I will fix you up just right.”
She boiled him a pot of special tea
It was a homemade brew
These were the days when she could see
And her skin; soft as dew
He thanked her, “taking time to help me.”
Sipping the tisane through
...
Two miles deep in the swamp
Where it is always ninety degrees
Lives a woman who never grows old
But her earnest spirit has gone cold
She lost her eyes and all her decrees
From a curse on a coin
She never will rejoin
But the devil always does what he, please
...
From his pocket, he withdrew one rare coin
Worth twenty thousand cash
Understanding her needs, her word; “besoin.”
His intentions were not rash
Yet he kept hidden the money’s purloin
So she put it with her stash
At the stroke of midnight, with her healing hands
Guided by a little black book
She placed her fingers on his tarsal glands
Noting how his eyelids shook
Her chanting from tomes; released tears to sands
She knew the treatment took
The handsome man‘s eyes were shining bright
Vision as good as gold
The pair laughed until dawn’s first light
But the swamp air; oddly cold
A sudden shiver disrupting her pure delight
Revealing cards untold
It turns out more than a healing
was just bought and sold
...
Two miles deep in the swamp
Where it is always ninety degrees
Lives a woman who never grows old
But her earnest spirit has gone cold
She lost her eyes and all her decrees
From a curse on a coin
She never will rejoin
But the devil always does what he, please
And the devil did it all with ease
About the Creator
Marilyn Glover
7x Medium boosted poet, editor, and Reiki Master who is at her best when in nature. Creating to boost humanity while often not coloring within the lines. Follow me at: https://gmarilyn009.medium.com/
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By Skyler Saundersa day ago in Fiction
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