Halloween 1883

In those foggy woods she was hanged back in 1883.
Jack-O-lanterns lit the way of death on that Halloween.
Her only sin was she was different from the average person.
Judgement and humiliation was always sad and certain.
An Empath with a crooked walk, sad eyes and downed face.
So much to offer, teachings like no others, viewed as waste.

The village gathered with torches and pitchforks in 1883.
Tonight was the night they all celebrate her death on Halloween.
That odd difference judging a book by it’s mere cover.
If only time was given there was so much to be discovered.
Not just loving care, but a deep reach into beautiful compassion.
The holder of the key to infinite life no one could have imagined.

In those foggy woods she was hanged back in 1883.
No one knew all lives would be lost on that very Halloween.
It was her very difference that helped the village grow and thrive.
It was her very difference that kept everyone healthy and alive.
Misunderstood and cast away by her fellow man.
Not until she was dead would they all understand.