AN: A late Valentine's gift for Gabri, who patiently awaits poems that take months to appear. We covered Robert Frost in my AmLit course this week, and reading
pieces like "The Death of the Hired Man" inspired me to try a similiar
style for one in my ongoing series of Luke & Mara poems.
Fortunately, my subject matter is a bit lighter - and fluffier - than
Frost's.Enjoy!
Bringing Up Baby
She
finds him hidden deep within
the
cargo bay, head bent, hands
folded,
face calm and contemplative.
Meditating.
She grabs a nearby
crate
and scoots across from him,
taps
his bent knees with her foot,
smiles.
Then she goes for the kill.
"Luke,
do you hate babies?"
Satisfied,
she watches as his
head
pops up, his eyes widen,
his
mental state shifts from relaxation
to
alarm – defenses rising yet
struggling
to comprehend this
pre-emptive
strike. She feels his thoughts
bounce
from surprise (am I dreaming?)
to
scrutiny (was this foreshadowed?)
to
reaction (how should I proceed?).
But
she interrupts this process,
striking
again with a glint of keen eyes.
"Mirax
and I were chatting last month
about
Valin, and Jysella, and Leia's
kids.
And how it's been three years,
and
you've not once brought up
the
topic at all."
"I haven't?"
"No.
Which
leads me to assume that
you,
the Almighty Luke Skywalker,
don't
want any—"
"—I didn't—"
"Or
maybe
the
great Jedi Master thinks that
I'd
corrupt children—"
"—You wouldn't!"
"But
that
still
presumes that my husband has
thought
about the subject—"
"I have!"
"Then
why
haven't you mentioned,
in
passing – or better yet,
in
serious conversation when you're
not
stuck teaching, and I'm not trapped
dealing
with business? Luke, tell me,
why
haven't you asked me at all?"
He
blinks, and she follows his
thoughts'
wild movement, from guilt
(was
I negligent?) to remorse
(was
I selfish?) to finally settle
on
old farmboy sheepiness. "I worry
that
I wouldn't be able to teach
them
– don't laugh, Mara – as I
should,
and that they might fall from
the
Light to confusion, and then into
Darkness.
You see? It's important
that
our son – you're right, or
we
could have a daughter. I didn't
mean
to say that we couldn't
have
a daughter, just – what
was
I saying? Oh yes – don't
distract
me – it's vital that
I
do not push them into situations
where
they could be tempted.
"And
right now, I'm not sure
that
I could successfully
handle
those duties. I'd rather
refuse
to consider the matter
than
watch my own child fall
prey
to that evil. I'd risk anything
to
prevent that. I'm sorry for
being
so weak – but becoming
a
parent, we could be creating
another
Darth Vader—"
"No, listen
to
me, Luke – that wasn't your
fault,
and you're not to blame. He did
that
himself. And if we have a
child,
you'll have to accept that
the
choice between cruelty
and
candor is a personal
decision.
You only answer for
yourself,
not another. You haven't
failed
if one goes astray."
She
stretches a hand out to
comfort,
encourage while reaching
to
soothe his turbulent thoughts.
Then
slowly, he smiles,
the
lines on his forehead
fading,
his shame replaced
by
a look of shy mischief,
the
hint of a smirk crinkling
the
sides of his mouth.
"I
thought that you'd been
rather
quiet this past week.
Mara,
does this mean you're—"
"Force, no!
I
just wanted to make sure that
when
it does happen – and it hasn't –
you
wouldn't freak out and
break
part of my ship."
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FIN
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