What happened to the daytime stars? They existed, I can assure you. Long, long ago. They fell from the sky, you see. They tumbled from their cold doorsteps to join us in this cozy world. They were so excited, you wouldn’t have believed it. Their dark lashes fluttered with anticipation, their full lips shining with stardust. And their eyes… oh, my darling, their eyes. They were young and old, fresh and weary, so very wise but so entirely naive. They didn’t quite understand what they had roped themselves into.
When they first came here, the very earth shivered where they stepped. They were goddesses, though they didn’t know it. Statues were carved in their honor, myths brought about to commemorate their existence. You’ll hear their names, though the rest of earth-kind couldn’t wrap their tongues around such beautiful sounds. Aphrodite or Venus, you might hear. Diana and Artemis. Freya, Inanna, Iris. After all, who could ever explain what a star’s whisper sounds like?
Now, over time, something began to change. Where they had been revered, suddenly a different kind of admiration grew. For a while, there was nothing they could do. They accepted that this was how things must be run here. They allowed themselves to be stolen away from their sisters, for thick golden bands to choke their dainty knuckles, if they were lucky. Sometimes there was no ring. Sometimes there was just a laugh, a sharp pain, and something very precious had been taken from them. It had been stolen, carved out of them behind a temple, or a shack, or a dumpster. And they were left there. Alone, afraid, and suddenly a great deal less shiny.
So it has come to be that the daytime stars have forgotten what it is to shine. They simply don’t remember how their skin would glimmer with moonlight, how the gemstones of the earth would beg to be strung around their throats, how the sea itself would give up its shells to adorn their robes. Now their heads are full are fear where there once was wonder. A night sky full of beauty has become a chance for for them to be raped, to be killed, and to be ignored if they dare to speak up about it. I want you to listen carefully: the stars have become afraid to shine.
Now, I come to you. I come to you with only my words to ask you: do you miss them? Do you miss those daytime stars? Do you miss those shimmering girls with nebulas behind their eyes? Do you miss the way they light up a room, a city, a planet when they smile like the sun? Do you miss the way they weren’t always afraid?
I do. I miss my daytime stars.
I would like them back, please. I would like them back.