Creeping mist upon my spine fitfully I lay,
My ending here I know not, nor of yesterday.
I am cold, I am wet, shivers lengthing my feet and hands,
I am suffering, my mind disappears, my body making demands.
I can not move. Why? There is a tightness about my wrist,
I am tied. Seriously? Who would do something like this?
I hear creatures stirring, slithering, and an occasional plop in the water,
My face on fire, I feel the burn, as moments go by I get hotter.
Fever?No I think not. But....NO smoke, the smell strong,
Blazing fire, flames nearing me, now will not be over long.
I tried to rise but my legs and feet were a tingle. I could not feel.
My mind a fog now, can not think what is fantasy and what is real.
My heart’s beat weakens with each moment, and only a wisp of breath,
I know my time is ending soon, I will know the moment of my death.
I hear voices in the distance, but I can not summon my voice,
“Witch, witch, burn witch,” They say, I die, their choice.
But a witch? Me? I think not, well I hope not anyway,
Heaven is shedding tears, but enough to make the fire go away?
Burning flesh, a silent scream, as I slowly close my eyes,
And my memory returned, in the moment I was to die.
“Baby, wake up, come baby, you are having a nightmare,
Wake up.” I sat up and the most handsome man was there.
Looking around I was in a beautiful home, in a huge bed,
But I knew, oh yes I knew, once hundreds of years ago I was dead.
© Cynthia Clark