Hangs a diamond in the silk-velvet of pre-dawn sky,
like a message,
like a Silmaril,
like a promise.
If this Morning Star were a promise
made to me by the stars,
what would it be?
That old promise, the promise which came walking up the shore
carried by a god.
I was just about to turn twelve
and the world had come crushing down and I
felt the weight of living
and would no one take this undeserved pain from me?
He walked up the shore
cloaked in a deep grey
and made the promise,
and for those words I have held on through…
Which have been complicated and painful and exhausting beyond belief
like the sea.
And lately the Things have changed.
That is inaccurate.
The Things are as they always have been,
but I bear them lightly now.
And I rest between times.
I had thought the promise meant that someday I would die
and all this would be over.
But today it means just what he said,
the god who walked up the shore all cloaked in grey.