Witches you could not burn

We are the granddaughters of the witches

you could not burn.

Their losses beget our gains,

their tears into thunderous rains.

What was silenced, now learns to sing,

from broken roots, wild roses spring.

Now– is our way,

Now– is our turn

We are the granddaughters of the witches

you could not burn.

No scripture twisted, no thread of lies,

can hide the truth from seeking eyes.

Leaving your dusky, interpretations behind

the dawn you feared, is the one we find.

The outdated strength of patriarchy,

A system of oppression, self serving anarchy.

Built on silence, on hypocrisy

Thriving on social stagnancy

No crown can last, no false hierarchy,

When liberty shatters monarchy.

From ashes we rise, fierce and free,

Daughters of faith, born for democracy.

Now– is our way

Now– is our turn

We are the granddaughters of the witches

you could not burn.

Iqra Mangi