The Dolls of Ash

The Dolls of Ash
by
Bobby Derie

When the fire mountains woke

Burning ash fell as rain from the sky

So all the people burned

Their houses and animals burned

The sky was dark for days

There was no more day or night

Time was measured only by the falling ash

Which accumulated in great drifts

When the sun came out once more

It was pale and cold

The clouds did not leave the sky

The people huddled around the warm waters

Which bled from the fire mountains

They carried the fire with them in horns

As they traveled farther and farther for food

The Ash-Mother rose up to command the people

Though she was young

The elders were all dead

Except for the Well-Finder

Who had drunk too much of strange waters

The Ash-Mother was strong

Fleet with blessing and curses

She had studied the old ways and made them new again

The old city was torn down and made new again

The ash was pressed into bricks

The bricks were laid and mortared

The walls grew higher and stronger than before

All as the Ash-Mother said

The water was made to flow in the channels

The plants were burned for their salt

The meat was cured with the salt

The fruit was cured with the salt

They ate the salty food for every meal

Washed down with sweet water

For those who had so little for so long

It was good

It was enough

In the days of the Ash-Mother

The dead lived with the living

In their homes

She made of them dolls of clay and ash

She dried their flesh with fire and salt

She plaited their hair and blackened their skin with ointments

They smelled of smoke and sweet herbs

They sat on stools and shelves

They chased away bad spirits

So the Ash-Mother said

No one spoke against her

Not for long

In days and moons the Ash-Mother ruled long

Always the first to tend the fire

Always the first to start the rites

Always the first to taste the grey salt

Bellies swelled after the harvest-rite

Well-Finder spoke a prophecy

Or perhaps a curse

Spat from cracked and bleeding lips

No more to the Ash-Mother

Her daughter was growing in the belly of another

Then Ash-Mother spoke

The stores of salt-meat and salt-fruit were not enough

The sweet water was not enough

No children could be born to the people

Not yet

She gave to the women the bitter herb

She watched them swallow it

Those who would not swallow had their teeth broken

Those who would not swallow had their hair torn

Those who would not swallow had the bitter herb forced between their lips

The children were born dead

The women dared not wail

Ash-Mother dried and cleaned them

Ash-Mother made them as dolls

That the women could carry them around

The Well-Finder was found drowned

All agreed out loud he had drunk too much of the strange waters

All agreed in silence

Ash-Mother grew fat

Her belly swelled

She did not eat the bitter herb

The women watched her

Carrying their dolls

It was hard on Ash-Mother

The women watched but did not help her

Nor would she ask for help

When the time came

Ash-Mother screamed

The women came forward

With their sharp knives

The men stayed in their hut

It was not for them

They heard the screams

For three nights

The Ash-Mother died

Each woman of the people cut a piece from her

They covered it with clay and dried it with fire

They hung the amulets about the necks of their dolls

In this way

Some thought their children would live again

It was not so.

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