Persephone and a poem

I wrote this poem many years ago, but thought I would share it here.

The Return

Much has been written of my capture.
Much imagined or whispered about the subsequent rape.
Much shared of my mother’s grief, yet
Little is known about me and my twilight days.

He is a somber man.
The weighty fabrics –the velvets, brocades, damasks, and furs–suit him well.
He wishes me to wear these. As there is little else,
Heavy burnt-umber satin covers my shoulders
While I dream of rippling azure gauze.

This ruler of shadows walks a measured step and
Takes calculated strides.
I do not see a dance step in him.

The pomegranate ultimately lured me, seduced me, really.
Its smooth leathery covering, the dry stamens,
The juiciness just wanting to be released.

I rolled back the skin
Tore the ivory membrane away and
Plucked out a ruby seed.
Truly, I did eat.

Six exquisite seeds.

You, doubtless, have also tasted
This tart tangy redness.
Have you, I wonder, held the kernel
Between your teeth and gently, slowly bit down
Before you let the juices fully run, filling your mouth?

There is an art to savoring forbidden fruit.

In  this dim craggy place, I have heard my name
Falling faintly, syllable by syllable, like water dripping off limestone.
Per

Seph

O

Ne . . ..

I try to catch the last syllable
To trace it on my cheek
Like a kiss.

After days of rubbing my eyes, just to see colors,
I can finally leave!
The lord of this world held in thrall
Does not watch me go.

Able to answer the summons now, I
Climb hard and swiftly upward,
Caressing root tendrils along the way.
I slip off the clinging copper satin
And loose my bound braided hair.

Blessed.  Blessed.  Sky.

The winds rush to greet me. Boreus grazes my lips,
Wildly filling my lungs.
Noreus burnishes my skin while Eurus lifts my hair,
And Zephyrus kisses me plainly all over.

Running, leaping, swirling, dancing.  Me!
The brooks, birds, and bawdy Pan sing out with me as I
Scoop up armfuls of hyacinth, larkspur, poppies, and honeysuckle.

I drink, feast on it all.
The great, green, pulsing world and
My sweet mother’s astonished happiness are
Breaking past the walls in her heart like a wild river.

I laugh long and hard, intoxicated by Life.
I am Delight.
I am Kore.

© Margaret Merisante 1995, all rights reserved.