Elizabeth Barrette (ysabetwordsmith) wrote,
Elizabeth Barrette

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Poem: "Hope of the Future"

There is a blog carnival running, A Carnival of Aces, on the theme of asexuality.  The current topic is "coming out."  I read about this over in asexuality.  So I thought it would be interesting to revisit one of my asexual characters, Hope, whom you may remember from "The Underground Gardens."  (You can read more about this series on my "Serial Poetry" page; I've added an entry for it.)

Hope of the Future

Hope was a calm and patient boy
In whom the gods took such great joy
They lent him their magic to employ.

While other boys were chasing girls,
Hope prayed his magic into swirls
And turned the falling rain into pearls.

A few boys chased the other boys,
But Hope cared nothing for such noise --
He was too busy practicing poise.

There lay a silence deep within
Where others' lust made storm and din,
And Hope was pleased with what lay therein.

Not for him, the courting and strife;
Not for him, a husband or wife;
Only the road, and a cleric's life.

Hope told his Da, who raised a shout;
Then his sister, who frowned in doubt;
But it was his Ma who threw him out.

Hope set out on the journey-road,
Prodded by gods and magic's goad,
Until he came to the town of Spode.

There he met with an elven bard
Fallen on times both dark and hard,
Sitting alone in a silent yard.

Elan confessed to Hope the cause
And how he'd crossed his people's laws:
Not elves, but dwarves, hooked his heart in claws.

Hope just shrugged, and said, "That is fine --
I don't care where hearts draw the line --
If you don't mind that no one hooks mine."

Elan smiled and tipped his head.
"Let us be friends," the young elf said,
So it was as friends they shared Hope's bed.

Elan could hunt as well as play;
Hope was happy to take such pay.
They stocked their packs, and went on their way.

They found a fighter, going west --
Druga the dwarf, hair in a crest --
And invited her to share their rest.

Camp they made by a creek so clear
It yielded fish with nary peer
And they ate their supper with good cheer.

They spoke of roads, and why they'd roam;
Druga had left her dwarven home
For loving elves, she said with aplomb:

"It's not a thing for laying blame;
I'm gruff and strong and fierce as flame.
I don't need a love who's just the same."

"I'm different than that, as you can see,"
Said Elan, leaning on his tree.
Hope just chuckled, and said, "Don't mind me."

Elan and Druga spent the night
In Druga's bedroll, bundled tight.
Hope slept alone, and that was all right.

Two became three, and on they went,
Pooling their funds to buy one tent,
Forming a family without dissent.

Heroes they were, young and untried,
Confident that fate would provide.
They had each other.  They'd find their stride.

Tags: activism, gender studies, poem, poetry, reading, writing
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