Witches To Burn! Poem by Amy Stuart

I'm reading the Crucible. That should about explain this!


A young woman about my age
Has been put on trial as a Witch
For growing harmless herbs
On her windowsill.


I watch helplessly
As they bind her hands and feet
With thick coarse rope
And pull her long golden hair.


Someone spits on the ground
Just inches from her face
And curses at her like a demon.

A holy man is at the river's edge
Blessing the swirling water.
This is the first test.


If the blessed water receives her
And she sinks
Then she was wrongly accused
And she goes to heaven.


But if the water rejects her
And she floats
Then she is the demon spawn
They say she is
And she will be tortured and burned.

I feel her terror as she is lifted
Feel the air rushing by
As they throw her into the river


Feel the churning water around me
As she disappears below the surface
And I feel her overwhelming dismay
As she rises to the surface


Coughing and struggling to breathe
A few men wade through the water to her
And pull her back to shore
The crowd clamours for her burning
And she is taken away to be tortured.

I see her again a few days later
With her hair shorn and shaven
She has been dressed in a black robe
And she looks as though
Her spirit has been broken


My heart cries out for her
But I cannot bring myself to defend her
For fear they would do the same to me
They tie her to a post
Surrounded by wood


Our eyes lock as the holy men
Drive their torches into the wood.
I can feel the heat as the fire
Licks at the hem of her robe


She is suddenly shrouded
By a shimmering light
Just before she is consumed
By the flames
The light remains until the fire dies down


Nothing is left of her body
It seems that though Holy Water rejected her
The Almighty accepted her in her last moments
And I feel her joy and peace.