Princess of Cups/2 (Krom) Hawk "The Persephoniad"

and yesterday was Chariot/8 Disks (two cards fell out) and 1(Dian-y-Glas) Otter.

I'm Writing again! I've been writing a lot.

Herewith is something I feel especially proud of--"mein Meisterwerk des Moments!!"

“The Persephoniad”
an Alternate Telling of a Primary Myth

I

None suspected she had prayed for it,
that she prepared for parting from Mom
for at least a few weeks. Young Kore
needed adventure. Thus, her dancing
feet took the maiden farther afield
where she sensed he was waiting: The God,
the mysterious caller who’d caused
that glorious azure bloom to grow
just inside hardest Per-Demeter.
As if hypnotized (but not really),
she skipped over to pluck the flower
but found herself plucked by Dis himself.
Grim Hades piloted his dark car
pulled by brawny black steeds glistening,
erupting forth out the richest earth,
from bleak Realm of Ancestry. He scooped
up his kicking, screaming, joyous
prize, she of fearful-happy frolic
and carried off daughter of barley
down to death’s palace in the sad place
that would have Persephone as queen.

II

Oh, scandalous whirlwind honeymoon!
Every bride needs a true vacation
from the world of mediocrity
The Underworld offers its own charms
for newlywed pairs. Orphic rhythms
propel dancers to primal heartbeat
gyrations. The kingdom of those who’ve
outgrown their mortal coils or ceded
them through no fault of their own has yearned
for a radiance such as Kore. To serve
such a one as she, the breathless ones
could only find ecstatic wonder
in coming to her aid at moments’
notice. Valiant Hades, God of Wealth
and Transition, that fun shadow God,
best kept secret, deeply embedded
in grandmother Gaia’s skin, squired his queen
boldly and tenderly. Hades knew
some things about shaking,
rattling and rolling in as many
words as can be conjured forth. What more
could a goddess of harvesting want?

III

Those halcyon days spent in leisure
through Elysium, Lethe, even
Tartarus with its bawdy ’musements
would have to come to abrupt end.
For every couple who elopes or
somehow denies the chance for public
endorsement of their nuptials crashes
’gainst walls of in-law intransigence
sometime. Kore and beau knew they would
soon face Demeter’s enraging song.
The harbingers thereof came thither
to Dis with influx of newly starved
into Ancestry’s kingdom. Legions
emaciated rattled their way
across the River Styx. Overworked
Charon ferried boatload past boatload
of wispy things reduced to structure
with tatters for skin to cover bone.
Psychopomp Hermes who guides the souls
recently dead to that pier betrayed
little resentment at this onset
of fresh death-work thrust upon him, but
one brutal day the Messenger took
the couple aside to apprise them
of mother-in-law’s wacky antics.
“I want for your union to go on,
of course,” he said. “But Zeus and Hera
are concerned for her recalcitrance.
Things cannot last, I fear.” Aboveground
bodies piled up. Below, souls crowded
in. So the wistful couple waited.

IV

Frequently two sides at least compete
to tell their versions of a story.
Historically, the official press
goes something like this: Wrongéd mother
grieves over theft of daughter from safe
shelter. Deeply wounded, she searches
frantically for her filial pride,
abandoning her sustaining work
in the process. Mayhem ensues as Mom
at last discovers the ugly truth
and wanders from the godly compound
pretending to no goddess’ raiment.
A fierce and comic woman dances
without clothes before this Divine One,
getting a laugh at the ultimate
in-joke and Divine Harvest casts off
her mortal cloak, exacting vengeance.
All the parties are called to table
and a deal is hatched wherein daughter
of grain spends half each year Olympus
bound and the other half in Lethe,
blah blah blah. Of course there’s more behind
the story, thank you very much. But Gods
do circle their chariots tightly.
The girl turning woman, has her side
as does her bold betrothed, that God
with overlooked gifts desirable.
None made it their intention to cause
mother-in-law pain, and yes, all knew
that her Smotherhood called for bracing
and healing tonic to pry daughter
from Agriculture’s hysteria.
They underestimated mother’s grief
and the depths to which she could sink.

V

Persephone, Death’s Sweet Goddess speaks:
“The pomegranate was my notion
kinda. I am Divine, with no need
for food but enjoy tasting berries,
squash’s firm texture, most beans and corn.
I eat only for that satisfaction.
Ambrosia is the only nectar
I crave. But the Elysian gardens
offer so much delight. I made it
appear I stumbled into the taste
of those luscious seeds. I knew what I
was doing. I longed to devour all
of those hanging fruits in his garden.
But I stayed composed. Six seeds would not
be ostentatious. It’s a true boon
to be wanted in both my places
rather than just one. Wherever I land,
I bring joyful gladness and relief.
Neither husband nor mother gets me
entire. I am the stuff of desire
itself. The arrangement satisfies
me, for I do grow tired of orchards
of apples, fields of corn and barley.
Those times, I long for my deathly reign.
And thereunder, I oftentimes grow
tired of dispensing tender comfort
forgetfulness to the departed.
Hence I yearn for the air to lift scents
of wildflowers across meadows, vales
and shore, to feel warm Helios’ rays
warm the skin and the land. Really, Zeus
has blessed this grain goddess with the best
of two amazing worlds. I rejoice
thus in my eternal good fortune.”