The Line Poem by Amouta Stardancer

The line was a solemn sight,
long and deadly,
the wooden poles stood,
waiting.
Some of them cried,
some of them were proud,
some of them unmoved,
none protested their innocence,
the time for that was done,
and no one would believe them.
All women,
all afraid beyond belief,
frightened of the flames,
frightened of the faces before them,
frightened of the doom over their heads,
and the death that was their only surety.
The ashes were their epitaph,
because no Christian would put there name to stone.
The flames were their judgement,
and they were swallowed whole,
in all the forest of the stakes,
the only innocence was tied to them,
and banished from the earth,
by fire and smoke.