I'm all too used to the touch of your absence.  Your mother's wrath in that time can be a death sentence so tragic.  But when you come back, Demeter returns to her senses expressing light magic.   Life springs through the darkness, and flowers race to see who can reach the farthest.  Lovers emerge to nurture their gardens, and soak in sun to thaw out the hearts that hardened.  Birds sing songs highlighting your arrival.  Trees breathe easy seeing what their last set of leaves died for..
Yet when you retreat, mother again takes away her warmth.  The high-flyers no longer soar, and some paths feel too bitter to explore.  Bone-chill zones, a frozen reality stream.  I can't blame anyone for what's a part of me, as we fall into winter's annual dream.
Queen of the Underworld, I appreciate your harmony.  Thank you for teaching me to see the depths of my own duality.  Still, I can't help but wonder how existence would be had you not eaten those pomegranate seeds.  In the darkness of winter I want to curse Hades for his greedy need to leach on life through trickery.  Though to curse him I'd be cursing myself and ive had it with the blasphemy.  Besides I too know what it's like to rely on the dead as your only company.  I ride ebbs and flows of loss and hope, but I know your presence promotes healing.  So again I'll remain as the seasons change, taking layers and peeling.  I've found in light and dark we can succeed in setting our bound spirits free.  Communicator of both worlds, I want to Thank and honor you, Persephone~

Like a flower that blooms only in night
Like a small child with cascading tears from their eyes
I always wondered if it will be alright
If I tried to use my smile to hide sorrow

A small shower bathes the flowers in dew
And the smell of earth lulls me to you
Closing my eyes against the harshness of light
All I see are impressions  against my lids

Hoping to feel the summer breeze pass by
But all I felt were caresses of goodbye
Try as I might I never succeed and I cried
But someone heard my futile pleas
And that is how you came to me

You held my hand and lead me to wonders
A blush adorned my cheeks as you whispered my name
I wished to only adorned your head with buds
But I **** them with a single touch
Yet you still held my hands in yours



© Sofia Villagrana 2018

Hecate,
When I was off and gone world weary
Weeping sorrowful in winter
I called on you to help and spare me sorrow.
Now that it is spring, it is now
My duty,
Sweet, sweet magical maiden fair
To grant you help in all you seek.
For you, master of magic, mistress of mythos
Can not fathom that which is the greatest magic,
The one within even mere mortals.
Love, Hecate. Love.
I know that I am one to talk,
Having broken free of the shackles that were formerly Hera’s,
But you, sweet Hecate, must not be mistaken as we are.
In your eyes sits the light of a thousand suns, burning with joy and potential to be,
You cannot subject yourself to these mortal pains, these mortal errors,
These wounds of the flesh as he does.
For he will lead you down a path rarely survived,
Rarely survived truly,
He will walk you into depths of sorrow,
Your own Hades, sweet Hecate.
He will lead you to question the very meaning of yourself,
The very essence of who it is that you are.
You are stronger than a mortal,
As any oracle will tell you,
As any of my court will attest.
He maintains such a level of power over you
That he makes fools of gods and spares no souls,
He has taken you for something silly and of that nature too.
But Hecate, you know this, a spell of love is just a spell
And so driven are you like Apollo before you, so driven with love
That you’ll cast it.
It is not yours to cast, that is Eros’ part and doing so would cause the world to shift out of balance.
But you will do it anyway, Hecate, for I know you well.
I shall leave you with this, and this truly,
Bad things happen to mortals who mess with gods.

-Persephone.

For half a revolution she spends her days
in caliginous caverns
where worms like silver thread
weave through moistened walls.
Water, endless dripping,
howling, whining, stalagmite fangs.

It began with a stranger,
shrouded with shadows.
Petrichor breath,
and beetle black eyes,
twisted root fingers,
and scattered seeds.

It was lonely at first,
death and loss and
weary wayfarers with tired souls.
An estranged husband,
a trio of rumbling growls,
and the lonesome echo of her own footsteps.

Waiting for a someday,
that will never come,
her titles, a mantra,
repeat in her head;
daughter, lover, mother and wife,
stealer of souls and giver of life.

So when the daffodils bud,
and the world awakens,
when she blinks through sunshine
and steps into the light,
she holds her head high.
She is Queen of the Underworld,
bolder than before,
she will evade their pity,
and transcend them all.

i think you liked the way
my coronet of flowers was
tilted when i reached the
bottom of your black stone stairs
i think you liked the way i
placed the pomegranate seeds
one
by
one
onto my tongue and whispered
"don't tell my mother"
and i think you liked the way
i walked right up to you
as though you weren't a demon
but a fallen angels wanting to be loved
i smiled
and when you said my name...
that was the beginning and end
of everything

Wait with me. Wait for the world to exist.
Wait for what she will tell us.

True, our breath echoes the sea’s
sweeping tide. The inky bleeding
of saltwater that calms and soaks.
Drenched, this collective exhale.
I’ve always preferred silk over velvet;
that’s what the sea is. Silk over velvet.

The moon has seen every unholy rite,
her glare is cast cold. Over the Mysteries,
over me. Every pulse of her is lapped
up by the sea beneath. This shared breath
is echoed in the sea is echoed in the moon;
the universe folds itself. Lives inside a gasp.

Wait with me. Wait for the world to exist
by her own rules.

Our stars are fading like so many discarded
loves. The world is tired, she crumbles
our castles. Crumbles our convent,
exhausts our goddesses. Daughter of life,
who slipped through Death’s doorway;
she sinks below. A seasonal existence.

Sunset spills red on the horizon, dedicates
her evenings to us. We exist by her signal
and her permission. She stretches her skin
for the moon. Lays herself as a blanket
on which night may sleep, cradled and safe;
a nest of stars. We all seek Dawn’s relief.

Wait with me. Wait for the world to exist
in anger, in yellow, in rain.

I refuse to be
Persephone
I escape brooding moods
And the reflections of souls dead to you
To accept a pomegranate seed or two
From the underworld was a mistake
I will not pay for
And I do not expect anyone to save me

I cry that your world is so dark
you believe the light inside me is deception
the seasons will come around again
and I will not return
your soil is too damp and oppressive
for any healthy sprout to grow
and your richness and grandeur
too gloomily cast

Familiar with the voice of dismal
and disdain,

I will not be restrained
I will not be abducted
I will not be compliant
I will not forget my life in the sun
I will not be isolated
and
I will not be afraid of gathering flowers

She wears the golden ray of sun on her dress
Her laugh so sweet any man can't resist
Flowers bloom on her every step
As she smile the world celebrates
Oh daughter of spring
You even melted Hades heart of solid ice
His monochrome kingdom burst into colorful hue
And because of that he won't let you go
Your disappearance payed a price
Now that you were gone
The world turned frozen and dry desert