The White Misty Women Poem by Sylvia Frances Chan

The white-misty women
visible when a lot of fog rises,
it gets very cold and everything is old
even the trees don't grow anymore
they stand there like statues,

but make no mistake
they are alive, and very merry
peaceful and quiet
only our hearts get restless
in knowing their history,
not funny as the small statue of little man-piss in Brussels
but very sad and tragic,

it goes back several centuries
women, who cannot mourn their friends' death
because they have suffered so horrible

condemned to death without guilt:
hanged or tortured to death,
that is why they are still there now,
those women, yes, they are innocent
they stand at every bend,
but when we walk by,
they don't bother us, they politely grant

centuries ago women are sentenced to death,
if they look beautiful or are too slim,
they are declared to be witches
and they must die,

everything happens here on this gallows field,
almost every village has some kind of gallows field,
remnants of that superstitious era

it's so icy cold now,
then I know what that means
brrrrrrr!