Running though the woods,
I hear the whispers of the town folks,
Still ringing in my head,
They say I am evil,
They say I am not to be trusted.
A daughter to their evil,
and I should be in hell’s fire.
I run far,
And I run fast.
They will chase me,
With pitchforks and brightly burning torches,
Because of what I am and say proudly,
I am innocent of any crime they may say I caused,
I am not evil but I do say with pride
I am Wiccan and I will not hide.
I am Wiccan and I’ll scream it into the night sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem