By Caitlin Smith


The seasons change and so does Persephone  

The innocent young kidnapee has realized

Just how trapped she really is

The dark realm where she was carried away,

Her daring great escape, morphed into

Another place to be carefully hidden away

Like a terracotta vase, polished and set out

On display on a museum podium

Longing to be filled with substance once again


With Spring, she rises from the ashes and

Makes her grand return to the greenery

But the soot still remains, as hard as her mother may

Try to scrub all traces off

The flowers are unsure whether to bloom or die

So they remain, petrified, in limbo

Until she takes shade under the willow tree

Away from the Sun that burns her so

And nature is able to breathe once more


As she came, it’s to the ashes she returns

To the land where nothing breathes

So her lover won’t let her either

At night she leaves a lantern on

So the shadows won’t take her again

The land of the dead is cold as ice

But she left her jacket on the surface

So she tries to set herself ablaze

With the dying embers of her soul


Poor sweet Persephone

The Fates have misplaced their yarn

And she will unravel forever

Until time takes its hold