Persephone’s Rising

By way of editorial comment: This poem of mine was published in Datura (2010), an anthology of Pagan poetry and essays by U.K.-based occult/esoterica powerhouse Scarlet Imprint.


Persephone’s Rising

If the Ides of March are past

whence comes this heaviness of heart?


He said it would be like this

in the silver half-light

the chariot steeds splashed across the waves

of Acheron

then I tumbled headlong into Lethe


No forgetfulness, though,

for She Who Never Slumbers Above

yet she caused the earth to slumber

her own body to be ravaged by winter’s withering


Golden poppy tresses

trembling with rage

as I found a new half-life for myself


the dead populace

and my beloved drank deeply

smeared himself

with my pomegranate juices

nectar more precious than wine, he said



Everything cavernous

cadaverous eye sockets

the mask of white loveliness

frozen onto my face like the folds of

the himation molded to my breasts

The pillars of this place

gleaming with the hope

of untold dreaming

the quiet denizens of this murk-world gape and shuffle towards me

arms outstretched



The curve of the sickle

Warm lap of abundance

Fertile in fallowness

Gaze not with the imperium of the Judge

but as an unconquerable Protectress


He said I was bright

I was terrible

the maw that gapes


in this harsh landscape

the torches

inverted moonbeams

cascading down

And did not the tears I shed cascade also?


Mutely the stirring

lips smacking off hardened nipples

the statue of myself

a gleaming shape

I floated down the corridors of time

with finger upraised to my lips

But who was I warning?
I am an enigma even unto myself.


And what dreams did you have

in the wind that chilled you

lifting up my chiton to reveal my marble-white thighs

You moaned

whether out of pleasure or distress

I could not say

could not fathom your lidless, cavernous gaze

Weren’t there serpents? Red and green?

I stood on a lowly bridge

and sang to them

most cheerfully

they cocked their heads to one side

and strained to hear

in the crystal-clear water

the lamentation before it issued

from my mouth

I peppered my dirges with laughter.


How warily you watched me

unfold myself

from the waning moon

the labyrinth spiraled before me

abdication of my throne

for the unknown

You stirred to lap up my life-giving juices

An exchange

for those seeds of yours I swallowed


The light so bright it burned

my old self away

in the fields of swaying narcissus

I wept as I thought of my youth

fledgling truth

in the satyr-haunted shadows of cypress groves

Can I insert a finger into my own


hush the din of tumultuous tides?


When the sun drips low

the extent of understanding

is redness

When my moonblood swells

unrestrained reason

is madness


I drank the kykeon

I played the drum

I made an offering


I will float through silent passageways

levitational meditation

with my index finger upraised to my lips

a warning, but to whom?


I am an enigma

even unto my Self.


Pomegranate flowers within me.


2 thoughts on “Persephone’s Rising

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