Persephone stirs in the world of the dead
where she was not born but borne
by the dark love who kissed
her innocent lips who sang
to her secret longing who offered
in tender and devious palms glistening rubies,
delight and ruin in the same shimmering seeds, blood-red.
She ate, of course.
Love is like that.
Yet they fret her sleep, these dreams
they trouble the familiar shadows with
fearsome light. The young of the earth
quake with night terrors while the
goddess beneath fears the strange days
that haunt ageless memory, the merciless
light scalding the soft corners
where, knowing better,
she hid her tenderness
for everything mortal.
Persephone stirs in the world of the dead
a friction beneath the crust of the earth warming
the light advancing. Demeter calls through
the mouths of birds to the daughter
who shudders and braces
to face the sun beneath which all
lives and then dies with a beauty so sharp
and fleeting even the gods tremble to bear it.
Delight and ruin in the same shimmering seeds.
Persephone stirs in the world of the dead
and turns her perfect back on the dark,
love and grief gathered in the creases of her robe.
She rises.
Meditatio Ephemera 
this sounds so true
with much to learn
coming from you, Cate 🙂
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Thanks, dear David.
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“Love is like that.” It is, indeed, Cate. Wonderful poem!
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Thanks, Bob!
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My God, you are gifted!! Incredible, Cate.
On Thu, Apr 4, 2019 at 7:53 AM Meditatio Ephemera wrote:
> Cate posted: ” Persephone stirs in the world of the dead where she was not > born but carried by the dark love who kissed her innocent lips who sang to > her secret longing who offered in tender and devious palms glistening > rubies, delight and ruin in the same shimmering s” >
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Thank you, dear Cousin. It is so good to see your sweet face with your comment. I will write a proper letter in the next day or two. Big changes afoot for my family, as I’m sure you know. And I would love to hear about you and yours ….
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