Not Demeter

"Exaltation is the going" ~ Emily Dickinson


How many months, years now, 
has she scoured the countryside 
for traces of her lost 

loves? She's leaning more,
day by day, toward trails 
bordered by nothing 

more copious than vegetation,
devoid of signposts to a life
where everyone just learned 

the roles they were expected 
to play, then passed these 
down to whoever came 

after them. How many rule 
books have been broken, 
how many rituals 

revised? Let those who don't 
wish to be found remain 
in their kingdom 

of braided walls. Let her 
choose to inhabit her own time,
stop hanging gauze in each tree;

let her eat and drink simply, sleep 
and wake while she can, walk 
by the water under the moon.