She lived life as a radical �
aware that she was right.
She stood alone against the world,
and fought to give it sight.
Now she stands before the fire,
on this, her �judgment day.�
And we await her final word.
What will she have to say?
Will she recant the things she said,
or choose the cleansing flame?
Be born away upon the wind,
as mere ash and a name?
Wait, the official of the court
has asked her, please to speak.
She shuts her eyes with willful calm,
and turns a blameless cheek.
At once, the flames consume her form �
she does not even scream,
nor does she call on heaven�s hosts
to wake her from this dream.
Look! A crown forms upon her head!
A ring of golden light!
Does it not pierce the sullied heart
to make it glow as bright?
As she lifts up her face to God,
and climbs that lofty height,
I feel a shadow leave my soul
and, clearer made, my sight.
This woman, like the phoenix, is �
ever born from fire �
a cause, a soul, a heart, a goal
rise from her burning pyre.