The Witch Trial
Location
The pain in my left leg, that they had so rudely broken.
Clawing it's way down my red cheeks.
The chair shifts below as the ropes gouge and rub on my skin.
The yip-haws of the crowd echo.
The sharp sizzle of hair as they prod with their torches.
Blocking out the ever-nearing pond of bodies.
Allowing the darkness of the world to ring true.
The Twelve Tables bubbling from my lips.
This poem is about:
Me
My community
My country
Our world