The fires rise
above her neck,
Blue, Orange, Yellow and Red.
Skin melting, peeling off,
As the flames dance upon her head.
The smoke billows forth,
Black, grey and white.
The fires spend their worth,
And day gives way to night.
Birds all fall silent.
The insects take up their song.
The cold wind turns violent,
Taking up the mantle of the wronged.
These winds bring down strongholds,
Topple walls and crumble foundations.
Her wrath and vengeance blow,
a plague upon all nations.
This poem is based on the death of Agnes Sampson. She was one of the first people burned at the stake for witchcraft in early modern Scotland. In the two centuries that followed, roughly 4,000 women, men and children were burned at the stake for suspected witchcraft in Scotland alone.
Editor’s Note: Make sure you check out Big Easy Magazine’s past featured poets! This includes work by Tyree, Julia, and Joao!
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“The insects take up their song.
The cold wind turns violent,
Taking up the mantle of the wronged.
These winds bring down strongholds,
Topple walls and crumble foundations.
Her wrath and vengeance blow,
a plague upon all nations.”
I can feel these winds. I can smell the fire burning. I can see spirits swaying through the night air, weeping, rebirth, and accepting the divinity of this trial. Touching piece!
Thanks, Sharita! A few days after publishing this, my Uncle reached out to me and informed me that I have an ancestor on my Father’s side who was banished from Colonial Boston for Witchcraft in the early 1700s! She wound up re-settling in Long Island, NY and I still have family there to this day.