Little Doll

I went to the tree that was struck by lightning,

I went quickly, to my sighting.

I took as many limbs as I could,

Well, as much as any shaman should.

I carved, I crafted late into the night,

The storm raged, the thunder’s flight,

I ended as I placed upon her a little green hood,

Was my doll, made of elm-wood.

I chanted and I sang, over her little wooden bones,

I recited old incantations in low tones,

The dawn approached, and it was understood,

I might not give life to my doll of wood.

I fed her despite it all, with honey and milk,

I bade her sleep, on a bed of silk.

I did all that I could,

To bring to life my little doll of wood.

I fell asleep reading, before the moon was seen,

In my half-awake sleep, I saw her little hood of green.

She pattered around my house as much as she could,

With her fingerless hands, made of wood.

I awoke with quite a stir,

To find that she was not… Where I had left her.

She was resting next to me, my little doll of wood-

“Ah,” I said,with a smile fixing her green hood,

“You have found a place that is good.”

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