Witch Hunt

photo by Francesca Woodman, of Blessed memory.
photo by Francesca Woodman, of Blessed memory.

So I am caught I see
b
etween what I am
a
nd should be.

There is nowhere to hide.
The woods
are no longer big enough.
I emerge from sanctuary to
discover Superhighway.

There is no need to burn me.
The tarred roads are hot enough.
They singe my soul
and consume my roots.

There is no escape
and nowhere to escape to.
I am burning up now.
Watch me become

Ash.

©Nicole Barchilon age 18, 1982

One thought on “Witch Hunt

  1. Wow! That is an amazing poem, all the moreso because it was written by your 18-year-old self. Thanks, Nicole.

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