Written by Allison Wall
Before you burn me at the stake, I set fire to myself
this is how you see me:
witch, apostate, depraved, deviant
rightfully punished
given over to the sins of my flesh
But look: my flesh melts
the flames clean my bones,
then char and disintegrate them
I am dead
specifically, the ones you approved
the ones I had to be to survive
This soul of mine has been in hiding
She has hidden so well, you have never known her
neither have I
I meet her after the ashes settle and the coals burn out
when the prairie wind scours the stench
of my burning from the air
Something stirs upon the pyre
It is her
my soul
She gathers up the ashes
purified by the flames I set
free of the judgment in your eyes
She builds herself true
a shape like nothing
you would approve
in the narrowness of your understanding
the poverty of your imagination
I am her
I always have been
On the other side of death I rise
more myself, more whole, than you would
ever have allowed me to be
.
Allison Wall is a queer, neurodivergent writer living in the American Midwest. Her work explores experiences of deconstruction, self-discovery, and belonging. She has an MFA in Creative Writing from Hamline University. Her poetry has previously appeared or is upcoming in ONE ART, Thimble Literary Magazine, and BRAWL. Allison is present (if not active) on social media as @awritingwall, and you can always find her on her website, allison-wall.com, where she occasionally blogs about things like the intersection of neurodivergence and surrealist art.