Death at the Doorstep

This won 2nd place. About the witch burnings.

The barred windows blur,
until I see death,
Death walking to the porch, knocking on the door.
I hold it closed,
never daring to let go.
If I do, all is over.
I hold the door in place,
but my strength is wandering astray.
Death sees me fidgeting,
knows I'm losing,
losing the battle.
My fingers lose their grip,
A man beckons me outside,
where the witch fire
is waiting, waiting for me,
like for the others.