Persephone wore her feet well
right before she went to hell
a vision of love
her cheek a blush
She trod among the grass and brush
a bouquet of daisies held to
her bust
How could she have known
of the impending test
a mother too far
to protect her soul
Her eyes are now glazed
with soot and coal
Yet merry her heart
and soft her hands
as she seasonally rises
to rebirth the lands
A capture
a torture
a childhood
torn from her
She still manages
to till the soil
blessing the blossoms
in effortless toil
A blip of a moment
she shares with
her mom
Then down to the fires
where she believes
she belongs
If the Wolf Mother
could grab her
by the ears and bark
She would know that
there is more to life
than the dark
She might bring the spring
but she has conceded to
love
that which
raped her of the soul
of a dove
For her to choose a life
of submission
is in itself
a heavyhearted lesson
Admire her not
accept her if you must
but refuse
her life
of
death and dust
-Beth F