Gathering Boy — A poem
I sent him out at dusk last eve,
With tasks that he must do,
I sent him out to gather… things,
I sent him out, to you.
I sent him out my Gathering Boy,
Unarmed,
And now mislaid.
To bring me what I needed
For enchantments;
Now delayed.
I sent him out to Black Heath Mire,
By way of Uthers Woad,
Without a single warding spell,
And now I fear his blood runs cold.
I knew the places he would go,
I knew when he’d return,
And still my Boy has not come back,
My heart begins to burn.
To know than my investment,
That I’ve fed and clothed and taught,
Has vanished so mysteriously,
My efforts come to naught.
And never mind the magic
That was wasted and decayed,
No never mind — the devils out,
For I have been betrayed.
I sent him to your filthy lair,
For bones and teeth and skin,
You said you wouldn’t do it.
LIAR!
I know you’ve eaten him.
You’ve changed your face,
BUT NOT YOUR WAYS,
You couldn’t just…resist,
You’ve swallowed down my Gathering Boy,
And now I’m really ……..ANGRY!
Really, I’m not at all happy.
If he still breathes, send him back.
© Cathie Tufnail
If you’d rather listen than read please click below.
The story of the Gathering Boy was passed on to me by an enchantress I met at a friends house recently. Her idea of a boy sort of matched up with my idea of a big, strong man, but hey, perspective is everything. If I was a couple of hundred years old I might feel the same way! She was busy preparing binding magics to perpetrate on a dragon that she believes had eaten one of her boys. Lovely though she was, I have to say I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of her!
