The women gathered round the fire
Beared witness to the funeral pyre

The body upon the burning flame
Without a face, without a name

They dance and chant, their voices as one
They will not stop until it's done

You see, the ritual they perform
Is not unusual, it is the norm

For every year they do it twice
A burning gift, a sacrifice

A newborn child, stolen at birth
To prove their devotion and their worth

Leaving the woods, the women are pleased
The ritual complete, the Devil appeased.











© Susanna Perumal