A Real Boy

Content note: gender dysphoria

A sculptor and painter were married for long
They loved one another so well
They had no misgivings, except maybe one
On which they both tried not to dwell
They longed for a child to combine their two hearts
In one body, one soul, and one mind
Instead, they began to combine both their arts
In statues, unique and refined

One day in the spring, the two passed by a stream
Near which lay some wood, old and worn, that did gleam
The form looked to them like a child in its sleep
Rekindling a longing so deep

One started to carve and the wood seemed to sing
The shavings fair flew from the knife
Absorbed in the work, went unnoticed a sting:
The statue looked almost alive
The painter then added the oils to the face
And moved by the features did cry
When one single tear on the wood left a trace
The statue did move and did sigh

The blood of the sculptor had mixed with the tear
Two hearts thus gave life to the carving so dear
The couple rejoiced and the girl child did grow
Though how and why they could not know

She learned how to walk and to talk in a week
They could not believe it was true
They gave to their baby the name “Angelique”
all dreams for them now had come true
The girl went to school just as all children do
Made friends and played games or she read
One day she came home strangely still and subdued
and her eyes looked so weary and sad

Her parents – for want of a more fitting word –
Were worried and asked if their daughter was hurt
Their love reached the child and she knew they were kind
She told them what was on her mind

“I know you are artists; your skills I do show
Your art is belov’d far and wide
I would have been perfect – but you did not know
That I am a boy deep inside”
“Sweet child, you can be just whatever you will
No boy could be better than you
We can’t change your shape but we meant you no ill
Whatever we can, we will do”

Without any questions, the child now became
A boy who just needed to choose a new name
The sculptor and painter were close by his side
Made skirts into pants overnight

The boy was quite happy but after a while
his form one day started to change
He tried hard to hide it and put on a smile
till everything felt wrong and strange
Each night did he make the same wish ere he slept
Please make me into a real boy
to wake up each morning still being quite trapped
not knowing which means to employ

He learned to hide curves under binding and vest
but whenever at night he unbound his own chest
the curves were right back and he blew out the flame
to cry in the dark till sleep came

One day as the boy whistled on the way home
a woman sat right by the road
She sat in the sun on a big mossy stone
“Hey boy, would you carry my load?”
he picked up her bundles of twigs and of hay
Said “Where do you need all this brought?”
She said “There’s a hut a bit further this way
He helped her out, just as one ought.

This done, he did turn but the woman spoke up
“As thanks for your help you can drink from my cup
One wish it can grant, so you might want to think
quite well and be sure ere you drink”

The boy took the cup. “There’s just one thing I need
I wish a real boy to become”
The woman did frown, “It might not do the deed
Because now you already are one.
You well know that angles and curves don’t define
Who you truly are meant to be”
The boy answered, “Yes, but this body of mine
Just won’t really feel like it’s me”

The woman then said: “I will help if I can;
tomorrow when you will wake up once again
Your body will fit and it will be your own
Now drink, you’re awaited at home.”

What happened this night we cannot know for sure
Did her potion bring him a magical cure?
Whatever the reason, the boy woke up whole
In body, in mind and in soul.