- after “Persephone” (2015) by Judith Schaechter
Here, it isn’t winter yet, though the spiked
leaf of the holly is its herald. Among the dry
rattle-pods and hairless weeds, a single
blood-red stem sends its network of roots
into the earth, a system interrupted
by cells of dormant seeds: crimson
and indigo, ending in the hollow where
she is trapped or where, depending on how
you’d like to retell her story, she prepares
to break through that ceiling. She’s not
too far away from the surface: it looks
as though she only needs to give one last
firm push with her left foot against a ledge
of rock in her enclosure, and she might stand,
clearing the blurry border between above
and below with a shower of soil and loamy
gravel. Except now she must do it alone:
the mother is nowhere in the picture, and
neither is the infamous lord of her abduction.
Only one insistent flower tethers her to
this world, and neither of them lets go.
I love this poem Luisa. The stained-glass is wonderful too, but the poem is great on its own.
Thank you! xxx