In the marketplace they are piling the dry sticks.
A thicket of shadows is a poor coat. I inhabit
The wax image of myself, a doll’s body.
Sickness begins here: I am the dartboard for witches.
Only the devil can eat the devil out.
In the month of red leaves I climb to a bed of fire.

It is easy to blame the dark: the mouth of a door,
The cellar’s belly. They’ve blown my sparkler out.
A black-sharded lady keeps me in parrot cage.
What large eyes the dead have!
I am intimate with a hairy spirit.
Smoke wheels from the beak of this empty jar.

If I am a little one, I can do no harm.
If I don’t move about, I’ll knock nothing over. So I said,
Sitting under a potlid, tiny and inert as a rice grain.
They are turning the burners up, ring after ring.
We are full of starch, my small white fellows. We grow.
It hurts at first. The red tongues will teach the truth.

Mother of beetles, only unclench your hand:
I’ll fly through the candle’s mouth like a singeless moth.
Give me back my shape. I am ready to construe the days
I coupled with dust in the shadow of a stone.
My ankles brighten. Brightness ascends my thighs.
I am lost, I am lost, in the robes of all this light.

“Witch Burning” is a poem by Sylvia Plath that explores themes of persecution, confinement, and the quest for identity.

In the beginning, the speaker describes a marketplace where dry sticks are being piled up, likely for burning. They feel trapped in their own body, which they liken to a wax doll. The speaker feels like a target for persecution, as if they are a dartboard for witches, and sickness begins to consume them.

The speaker blames the darkness around them for their predicament, feeling as if their light has been extinguished. They feel imprisoned, kept in a cage by a mysterious figure with large eyes. Despite feeling isolated, the speaker admits to being intimate with a hairy spirit, perhaps representing a sense of entanglement with dark forces.

The speaker reflects on their own insignificance and innocence, believing that as long as they remain small and still, they won’t cause harm. However, they recognize the escalation of the persecution they face, as indicated by the turning up of the burners.

Metaphorically comparing themselves and others to small white fellows full of starch, the speaker acknowledges the pain of growth and the inevitability of facing the truth. They long to be released from their confinement, to regain their true form, and to interpret their experiences.

The poem concludes with the speaker feeling overwhelmed by light, expressing a sense of being lost in its radiance. Despite the brightness, there’s a lingering sense of uncertainty and disorientation.

Overall, “Witch Burning” paints a vivid picture of a speaker grappling with persecution and confinement, using rich imagery and symbolism to convey their emotional turmoil. Through its exploration of darkness and light, the poem captures the complexities of identity and the struggle for liberation.