The Confessions of Persephone

They say I was abducted.
They say that he stole me away.
Kept me captive in the darkness,
to rape and violate.
They say I was helpless, ripe to betray.
I am the golden-haired maiden after all.

But they were wrong.

The truth is that I became bored with Olympus.
The Gods of the living and all their bickering.
I was young and impetuous.
I followed my heart.
It led me astray.
If you don’t believe me ask Hecate.
My one faithful witness.
She is not the patron saint of witches for nothing.

It was a long time ago now.
But I remember the small white flower in the field far
away from my mother.
The fragrance of Narcissus.
The sweet allure.
The promise of sin and what I might discover.

And then he came for me.
Riding a chariot pulled by black horses.
I was not afraid.
I knew he was my kin.

He who lives with the souls of the damned.
Knows only the dead for company.
The only one who knows how to touch me.
The hidden brother of my father.
Oh and when the earth closed over us.
There was magic.

No mystery was hidden.
No shadows forbidden.
I would have stayed forever.
But my dear mother Demeter pronounced it tragic.
She laid her mantle of misery upon the earth.
So that nothing could grow, no seeds would sow.
How could she understand the beauty of darkness.
Until she knew how to grieve?

They say that if you eat the fruit of the underworld you
will never leave.
I was very careful to mind my fate.

They say I ate six seeds from the pomegranate.
But actually it was seven.
Three for the earth.
Three for hell.
One for heaven.

I am not the victim of the underworld.
I am the one who mediates.
The weaver of dark and light.
The one who illuminates.
The one who frees.
The daughter of the mother
who needed to discover.
The one who initiates.

Only the Queen of Heaven,
would take Hades as her lover.

Aisha Wolfe