Waiting for Persephone

Jena Woodhouse
We have been separated by migration's
parting of the ways, she to the journey,
I to numbly waiting for returning spring.

She has traversed dark waters of the Styx,
and plunged where all light fails:
I see this in her eyes, the mysteries
too deep to articulate.

She has recorded tales of wonders
witnessed on the distant trails
intrepid souls embark upon,
the sublimated marathon.

All through the winter it's as if
my heart was frozen by the gale,
littering the foreshore with cold
offerings of shale and bone.

But when I meet Persephone again,
the sea will sing with whales;
dolphins will announce her coming,
skimming the ecstatic waves…


* * *

 
Every daughter…


Every vessel leaves the harbour's safety
for the open sea;
every daughter leaves her mother's body
for uncharted water;
every sleeper leaves the safety of her room
for worlds unknown,
every creature on a journey dreams
of one day coming home…


* * *


Imaginary encounter


We met below the surface of the water
where the light was strong.
She'd been gone so long, she'd grown,
but I was the same harbour mermaid,
silver skin eclipsed by flukes
and torso of impressive scale.

She was like a magical, pale
creature from a fairytale.
We wanted to gaze longer,
but the dolphins warned her not to stay.
I touched her lovely, creamy flank
and sadly watched her swim away…




...for the safety of a daughter...