Where the Sisters Gather

She resisted their consolation.

Truth be told,

I did tell them to leave her alone.

Torture

corrupts and breaks,

sinks its fangs and is ravenous poison.

Stretches a sadistic iron claw against softness not meant to be pierced

and delights in the sound of ripping soul.

Energies engulfed her.

Death

near certain.

Agony convulsed and contorted

until limbs could no longer move.

Our Circle delved to depths,

defied explanation,

covered us in sacred ash, and reverence

listening around hallowed flames

to the pitch in her screams,

examining seizure patterns,

and the taste of falling tears.

Countless sacrifices had been made.

Vows taken.

Stones cast.

Herbs gathered.

Surrender here unconcerned with non-resistance

but acceptance of blood spoilt.

Ease is never a consideration.

Such cries summon the seeress and the work must be done.

No one comes and turns back.

Time is nothing.

Healing is everything.

Thousands cast this spell and caught her,

unshamed and unbroken.

Not one have we lost.

May the Ancestors be forever pleased.