Death

Looking through the stain glass window
Wanting to go through the doors of the church
But this building is why I am now a widow
I can't stand to look at those who burnt him
My husband died, stuck on a stake
In public areas where he could be seen
I saw them give the petrolium bottle a shake
And sprinkle it over the ferns that hung around him
The stick on fire, soon lit the surrounding branches
He screamed in agony, his own slow death
I ran out to him but they held me back,
I was not allowed to scream, yell for him
I was to stand in silence as he slowly died.
He looked at me through the flames as if to say,
"Goodbye love, I'll miss you!"
And then I knew, it was all for the best.
Because I would see him in heaven.