Perchta's Reckoning

She looks at you as if she knows. Not what you’ve done. What you didn’t

do. The moment you turned away. The word you should’ve spoken.

The hand you didn’t hold. She remembers it all. Once,

her name was Perchta of Rožmberk. A wife. A daughter. A woman buried alive

in silence. She begged for mercy. They called it madness. She refused forgiveness. They called it sin.

So Heaven turned away. And Hell never opened. Now she walks between them —

where no prayer can reach, where every guilty heart eventually comes to listen.

They say she cursed her husband. But that’s not true. She cursed all of us.