Persephone whispered to the flowers, “I am lonely.”
How quickly a plea becomes a confession of guilt.
Surrounded by sun, friends, and mother. Looked after by
A far away father.
Yet, she sits-
Pining for more.
Persephone clenched Hades’ freshly pressed dress shirt-
leaving little crinkles from her sweaty palms.
“I am so afraid,” she called over the roar and swirl of their godly speed.
“Of what,” he grinned, peering over his shoulder.
The Goddess of Spring, immortally younger than
the centuries of experience that surrounded her all the time,
wasn’t sure how to tell this man, this handsome, wild, incorrigible man
that she was afraid of, “everything.”
Pomegranate seeds pop like silent firecrackers
Juicy, blood dripping everywhere.
They stain your tongue, your dress, your soul-
But only if you eat enough.
Persephone’s belly tingled with each seed she swallowed.
After the sixth seed, she shyly met Hades’ eyes.
Face flushed and pink, she revealed, “I am still hungry.”
Little Goddess of Spring,
Goddess of the Innocent,
Goddess of backseat-makeout-sessions,
Goddess of living-in-your-mother’s shadow,
Goddess of the lost,
Goddess of the Underworld,
You said, “I am sorry,” to your mother,
but from one little goddess to another,
I have to know,
did you mean it?
Persephone filled the Underworld with flowers and rain.
She filled Hades heart with love
She soothed the Titans and calmed restless souls.
One day she had convinced herself, “I am nothing,”
But slowly she learned, in the world of the dead, “I am alive.”
