In Conversation with Persephone

I met Persephone on an early spring day in March

When the ground was still frosted

And the buds just about to emerge

Goddess braiding cold daffodils into her hair

Yellow bright against dark brown

With a smile soft and sad, she beckoned me over

I ask her my questions, weep them like rainfall

The Earth pulling my words out

Placing them at her feet

Why did you stay, I ask, why did you leave

Why do they misunderstand, why you forgotten

How do I do what you did, how do I be free

I wanted to be alive, child, the reply came like summer song

And I could not live amongst the flowers and grass

The senseless wrath of the springtime

There is more spirit in the unsuspecting darkness

More joy in embracing all that is never seen

Than there ever will be in the glory of the light