The Boy Who Plays With Doves

PART I - Payback

Some boys taunt, torment and tease,
Wield their words as weaponry.
Some boys sabotage for sport.
Some kill birds without remorse,
Slinging stones without a care.
Some start fires just to scare.
Some boys crave the darkness so —
Follow where the dangers go.

          But not Callum.

While some other Village lads 
Bluster, bother, battle, brag, 
Callum likes to sit and play
With his doves most any day.

Here is Callum's favourite space
In the Village, any place —
Far from crowds and close to trees,
He can be with doves in peace.

Watch him open up his hand,
Makes no noise and no command.
See the doves come flocking calm,
Pecking crumbs out from his palm.

See that dove perched on his knee?
See how Callum lights with glee?
Listen to his feathered friends
Cooing sweetly now and then.

          But beware, for here they come —
They're the Hunter's ruthless sons,
Small in size but triply rough,
Sharp as flint and just as tough:
"Hey, I see 'im. Over there!
It's the runt who talks to air."
          "Feeding all his stupid birds —
          Wants to marry one, I heard!"
                    "Callum is so mousy-meek,
                    Such a cry-girl, wussy-weak,
                    Rotten runner in the race,
                    Such a sissy-faced disgrace!"

Watch the sons come charging down,
Wooden swords they wave around.
          In a flurry white and grey,
          All the doves do fly away.

Callum panics, tries to dash,
Wants no part in violent clash!
But the brothers, fast as thieves,
Tackle Callum to his knees.
Listen to their roguery:

"We're the gallant knights of good.
Cal's the Monster in the Woods.
Let us slay him, save the ville.
Come on, brothers. Kill him, kill!"

As the knights all punch and poke,
Kick and cut, jab and joke,
They declare a victory.
Watch them leave, proud as can be.

Battered, bruised and beaten up,
Callum hates his wretched luck:
"I just wish that I was strong —
Pay back when they do me wrong."

         ...Now a stranger's voice behind
Brings a calmness to the mind:
"Gentle boy, how cruel they are.
Heartless cuts will leave a scar."

Callum turns around to see 
Who this mystery voice could be —

There he is, gaunt and tall,
Tawny-cloaked, overall.
Wild as the woods he seems,
Like some figure in odd dreams:
"Where I'm from, if they did that,
We'd have shaved their heads down flat.
That is how we educate,
Bend them from their beastly ways.
Wouldn't you just love to see
All those boys' heads bald and free?
You should make them lose their hair.
Have your share — 'tis only fair."

"Lose their hair?"

                                       "Lose their hair! 
Make their heads all bald and bare.
I can do that if you wish —
Payback served upon their dish.
It is right as punishment,
Penalty for their offence.
Teach that lesson, if you dare.
Have your share — 'tis only fair."

"They deserve that just dessert*
But...how would that really work?"

"Lad, I've studied magick creeds.
I know all the magick deeds.
Making hair fall? Oh, what ease
When compared to other schemes.
To begin the punishment,
You just need to give consent.
Say the word and let me do.
Quick as falcon, I'll be through."

Callum thinks about it twice:
"...Will I...have to pay a price?"

"Oh, no price! No, there's no cost.
I just have a softened spot —
Helping lost and injured boys,
That's what I do most enjoy,
Thoroughly, a lot, a lot."

          Callum's mother warned at home
Not to follow souls unknown
But this kindly, helpful man
Has a feeless magick plan!
          Cal, in craving much redress,
Does forget his better sense:
"Yes, I do give you consent —
Pay them back with punishment.
Make them bald and well-behaved —
More the angel, less the knave!"

"Very well, then. It is done.
Let their hairs fall
                                       one...
                                                         by...
                                                                         one..."

_____

* Though the correct spelling is "just deserts", I wanted to leave it as the malapropic "just dessert" to highlight Callum's child-like innocence :) 

For the most part, this poem follows the syllable scheme of the Vietnamese thơ thất ngôn, where each line has 7 syllables. 

All Arthur Rackham-inspired AI-generated illustrations were created using Gencraft. The style isn't 100% consistent but that's AI for ya...