I sail away from you. Your figure, tiny now, blurs in tears. Moon Goddess catches in my sails, leaving a brief gift of translucent pearls.
We sail, my craft and I, over sunrise-warmed blue, tempestuous seething grey; in and out of countless settings of the sun and risings of stars and planetary bodies.
Without true choice, I had to go. It hurt more than I can say – a knife, without balm’s benefit, to the soul; a savage wound which bleeds still, dripping salty red spheres on to the weathered wood of the boat.
But the next phase of my training as Priestess meant this gash, this gout and grief, was inevitable. In order to sail towards, I also had to sail away from: Leaving you standing upon that familiar shoreline – not knowing whether I would ever see you again in this life – was almost beyond bearing.
View original post 264 more words