Bewitching

I was the weird one of the bunch.

The one they’d tease, the one they’d scare,

The one who would close her eyes

To see how nature unravels.

They never tried to understand

Why butterflies sat on my hand,

Why flowers bloomed as I gently blew,

And why for me time moved so slow.

I never thought I looked like much,

With curly hair, freckled pinched nose,

But what always stood out

Was the distinct air that I wore.

My Mum would kiss away my tears,

Patting the unruly clump of hair.

A velvety voice would ease my fears

And whisper sweet nothings in the air.

“I’ve never seen a witch as bewitching

As the lovely witch which you are.”

It was a lie, it was a scented dream,

It was all that lay in between,

From the first moment they left me bruised,

Until I rose above the abuse.

Words are magical spells when infused

With love, with care, with understanding,

That soothes the soul and mends the wounds,

Leaving a crippled hero standing.

Now, I’m the witch who shares the magic...