demands a descent
You must go.
You must go down
To open more, pried open in your most closed places.
To let the darkness that lives there
Spill out onto the floor at your feet
And you must grieve
The loss of the hurt
You held so dear,
Before you can join the flowers.
(copyright M. Owen)
Persephone's Feast Day
When all the names are gone
when there is nothing left
for memory to feed upon
Perhaps all the wastes
of love and time
ferment their healing,
here, in these nigrado depths,
becoming at last albedo
a white lily,
a crocus arising, new
life in the barren place
There is no valor in this
rooting among decomposing fragments
of so many lives.
I offer now bread,
red fruit, red wine
To the beautiful and strong,
those who speak and those who dance.
And to the inarticulate and the broken,
to those who are lost, to the hungry,
and to the fallen. To every transparent lover
wandering these gray bardos
in their solitude:
Come to the table, all.
Here is a rich conversation
harvested from the last living garden.
A dappled pear, an apple, a pomegranate.
A butterfly in its chrysalis, winged, moist,
the slow rebirth of color
deep in the depths of this dream
The wheat has new life in it yet
The blessing will still be given
Lauren Raine (2005)