Teler by Dawn Felagund

Teler

Teler

It used to be
That I would row out far from Eldamar
Until my arms grew weary,
And I could row no more.
And upon tossing seas,
To Uinen, would I pray for
peace
calm
Until the only sound was the sough of my heartbeat
And the wind's slow hand passing across the water.

It used to be
That far from the light
(Light?)
of Valinor, that which was long ago taken
From the gold-illumed pools
Of Light spilled across the earth by Eru
And shimmering in the airs like a thousand lanterns--
Yes, far from that light that was taken
and owed
By and to the hands of the Valar,
and confined to Valinor
That I would lift my oars into my boat
And look at the lights in the water.

The stars? you ask,
Those devices of Varda
Fair-wrought, long ago?
Yes, in a way. Yes, but lovelier than that too.

It used to be
That, with my back turned to Aman,
I could gaze upon the windless sea,
And those lights high above
That we would later judge too meager,
Having grown greedy of light collected,
captured
(and hoarded?)
Would be caught in Ossë's hand.
Would be caught on the tip of each wavelet
Spread thin
Until the whole sea blazed with starlight
And even Uinen's touch could not restrain the sea
From leaping and dancing in the glory of that Light!
I--leaning upon my elbows, face fallen forward--
Thought,
This is the world
As it was at its beginning,
As Eru meant it!
Until a cold slap of water, upon my face,
Wakened me from my reverie.
And the trickle of water down my cheek, running home to the sea,
Sounded of Ossë's laughter.

So I released my oars,
and turned back.
To a land called Paradise,
But not as it was meant to be:
Not light, caught behind walls.
For a moment, I paused, oars caught up.
There were the Pelori,
Trapping Paradise behind them,
A cage without bars,
A black clot on the horizon
without even stars
That we would one day judge too meager.

And I rowed home.