As a little bonus, I’ve gathered up some wonderful poetry about Persephone. It seems she is quite the poet's muse! I love the wondrous imagery these words invoke. Poetry and art always are such a delicious pairing don’t you think?
persephone speaks : by amrita
I am not the story you have been told.
I am not pure nor powerless I am not your fantasy of an innocent you can corrupt.
you think he took me? you think I knew not what I did when I laughed and placed those crimson seeds upon my tongue?
do not mistake my kindness for naivete. I am forest fires and flower buds I am poisonous thorns and newborn foals I am death and rebirth— cross me at your peril.
my lord, he brings me wreaths of bloodstained flowers, and I grant him kisses laced with venom he rules with iron fist and I with gentle touch. we live and love in a curious harmony of sweet birdsong and the tortured screams of sinners.
come springtide i am bound to earth to my mother’s sun filled meadows, her unequivocal, enduring love. and by the fading light of summer I return to my lover’s onyx walls and cimmerian heart.
I cherish both but they know they would have no claim on me if i did not desire it for I belong to myself, I am only my own— half blooming creation, half blazing hellfire.
he calls me his lady but he knows I am a queen.
hades
Where we go when he closes my eyes and under what country: some blue darkness, farther than hell; a landscape of absence and root and stone. There are no bodies here, we dream shapeless dreams a constant, cloudless storm.
Mother, I'll never wake up from him, I have already traveled too far. My mouth is the color of his mouth and his arms are no longer his arms; they're mute as smoke, as my first white dress, and the spear of his name, once ferocious, dissolves on my tongue like sugar, like birdsong, I whisper it: Hades.
