My life was always accompanied
by poisoned suns, suns that did not know how
to step out of their twilight and so had
to jump far beyond that,
a supernova, and I learned not to be blinded
by the changeable light.

And when I realized
that all that is left after
a supernova is dust and shadows, my eyes
changed to the slit pupils of
a snake, and I learned not to be blinded
by the darkness.

But when I was confronted
with the steady, cheerful glow of
a hearthfire, I had never learned not to be blinded
by a light that stays, constant despite
its flickering. I who was a child in the land of
dying suns never learned not to be burned
by warmth, and though I long to linger
by the fireside sometimes I must step
out into the bitter wind to remember
who I am. I can only
promise to return.