Walking Through Fire

by Maggie Helwig

In the fifteenth century, a tide of witch-hunts swept through Germany with unparalleled ferocity; its victims: women. Out of this dark history, Walking Through Fire recreates the urgency of a hopeless situation and its inevitable conclusion.

Genres: Poetry

54 pages, Paperback

First published January 16, 1981

About the author

Maggie Helwig (born 1961) is a Canadian poet, novelist, social justice activist, and Anglican priest.

Reviews

[M.W.P.M. · Rating 4 out of 5]

The witches must be burnt.

As by God's word they burn in Hell forever
so then by ours
shall they burn on the earth.
For we who wear the fisher's ring are named and bound
to tend the lambs in all the world
as here behind our walls
and the outer darkness daily grows more great.
That all may turn to us and to our God
these witches must be burnt.

(Do they then burn for you,
Giovanni Battista Cibo, born of Genoa,
Bishop of Savona?
No
not for me.
Our hands are clean;
we are
the Innocent)

- Summis desiderantes affectibus, 9 December 1484, pg. 7

* * *

The child is still within me - women of the village
tell me it should move.
I am afraid.
Andreas says the witch would know.
He is deceived that she did seem to cure him once.

But I fear now I feel the punishment of God -
I lied about the girl.

I cannot quite say why -
I know that it was wrong
but she was young, and I could see no harm.
Probably she will not live long anyway.

And I have done God's work.
I gave the witch to them
and know that He is pleased.
My secret after all is not so great -

but I am frightened by this waiting silence.

- Martina Kirschke, pg. 15

* * *

If I must be the knife of God, so let me be.
And if this be deep-buried, I cut deep.

So well they hid, so many
and before the trials I never knew.
Only the torture shows the devils out
that we may strike.
I see my duty well
and pull this thing up by its dripping roots

and if this goes so far
then so go I.
I shall not see my daughter live
among such stains.

- The Judge - The Service of the Lord, pg. 25

* * *

My Lord, today we burned five women
and a girl of twelve
who had bewitched her uncle so that he did die.
Lord, I have served you well,
have turned my eyes to you
and corned this world dust.
I know full well
the task that I am given.
In thy works I must be strong.
But grant your servant, Lord, this prayer -

please do not let them scream so long.

- The Executioner's Prayer, pg. 35

* * *

Not even a body
bu a thousand deaths
within a bag of skin.

The twisted throat, the burning breath
that lies and gives no air
blood bubbling in the chest
iron red-hot on feet that cannot move
the legs are gone
bones and veins a paste in the wedge
and splintered through the flesh.

Hot blood salt in the mouth
and vomit
wrenching from the belly
tearing of joint and muscle, limbs that will not answer.
The bones no longer hold together
only the chains
keep all this in one piece.

I scream for them to kill me
and they turn their back.

- The Question, pg. 43

* * *

And she is in the field
with night behind her.
And I go forward to her.

Witch's seed
I am Martina.
I share witch blood.

I shall never speak to you nor touch you.
After this night we shall not meet again.
You have me herbs
and I do not know what they mean.

But this I know -
I turn and I return,
and, witch, we are the same flesh,
you and I -

I shall not burn.

- Circle, pg. 54