The Making of A Witch, a poem by Sandi Leibowitz at

The Making of A Witch

The Making of A Witch

written by: Sandi Leibowitz


Here, under this pointed hat,
is hate.
Here, from the gloom of this black cloak,
an ember glows
red and ready to burn.

The wife abandoned.
The daughter raped by her father.
The householder cheated, farmstead stolen.
The crone kicked and beaten,
and driven from the street.

You’re right to fear me.
Every wrong you’ve done me
I’ve poured into my cauldron,
where it’s simmered long.

Here, too, is strength.
It propels my athame
as if it were a sword.
It turns my wand
into a club.

Here is power.
You silenced me.
Now my incantations
thicken the air
like a throng of bats.
You hold your weak hands
against your ears and scream.

You starved me
and my hunger grew.
It has legs now, and wings,
and teeth.

You shut me in the dark.
Now I own the night.

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