Elen’s Daughter

She’s sitting in a glade
antlered head bowed in concentration
patiently carving patterns
on a piece of bone.

Then in a deer-like leap
she’s up on cloven hooves,
spinning around in a whirlwind
of auburn hair, wild freckles,
eyes full of leaves and me.

Anger quivers in her skin.

She reminds me of a compass
straining toward north but unable
to get there trembling green.

“I have lost my way,” she speaks
softly but from a deep well of loss,
“Because you have lost your way.

On one bone I mapped the world
but now I can’t fit one of your cities
on a map the size of this forest.

You wander through them lost.

The ways have been broken
and all the maps are gone.”

She stares as if it’s my fault.

“I’ve been told I must re-weave
the ways between the worlds…”

“You and your people need to
fix your ways for certain!”

She scratches at a line on the bone.

Elen's Daughter 450

5 thoughts on “Elen’s Daughter

  1. Aurora J Stone says:

    Simple words here weave a complex and challenging message. It is a call and a warning. It is a softly spoken cry from the heart and a whisper against the hold of the modern world, whose thrall must always resist, and when necessary fight against. Thank you for these words, Lorna.

  2. Lyle Almond says:

    I love the illustration. Just the way I would expect to see her; I’ll keep my eyes open next time I’m out in the woods.

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