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The Song Of Persephone
In my dreams, I am Persephone.
But I am also Demeter, the world grows ripe at my fingertips
and dies at my feet.
These, of course, are just dreams.
I am not godlike. I prick my finger on a thorn bush and it
spilling to Earth. He comes sometimes,
Keeps to the edges of my vision. Watches me with a boyish
shyness, that infuriates me and stains my cheeks
I am not truly alive. But my heart still beats for something just out of reach.
Mother, cries that I am dead. Her anguish and fury spills
out, engulfing the whole world as she weeps.
She blames the Earth for my leaving.
Starves the planet for my return. She kills millions in her
In her tears, thousands are hurt.
I, on the other hand, am more calm. Self- sufficient,
I wait and keep time with the wind.
My breathing comes out in small puffs, becoming fog miles
I float, boundlessly, on a bed of silk. There I sleep but I
do not dream.
I spend the time
counting seeds. Collecting ripe fruit from dropping trees.
The days here are dark and clouded. And I sing without
And when he comes, I sing without
_Hell is a place called
home. A quilt work patch of smoke and
And I think.
I do not love him.
At least, I do not believe I do. I see the way the others
their bosoms swelling up like sunrays descending to Earth,
full and victorious and laughing
Their love, however short, are nuclear fares burning the
Scorching their lovers,
leaving nothing behind,
Such radioactive affairs. Their hearts do not fight.
Then, why pray tell, does mine?
So, I sing.
Ours is a love, soft and deep ,
still water under
I wonder if I am in love
I wonder, if it's with him
And I sing,
_I love this place with
its sinking caves
Ghostly pale flowers
glowing in the fields, long nights, dark days
I'm in love with
The pomegranate seeds
Each drop that runs
down my cheek
Flowing streams waves,
bitter yet sweet
I was brought here by force
and I shall not forgive
You dragged me down
She forced me in
He caught me off guard, and forced me in stride
I love him but my fate is not his to decide
I love my Mother but my life is my own
So, I curse them both
I shall stay here
And love alone
When he leaves, I sit and count out the remainder of my
I hold the world in my hand, sunken dried face and gray,
I breathe and it blossoms, into a growing tree
Producing ripe fruit, I reach out my hand