Poem to Persephone

As sojourners, we languish in the underworld

of a eurogenic Dark Age

waiting for the arrival of new Life – a new beginning.

Waiting, we walk the winter garden

where last-year’s leaves

quietly compost beneath blankets of snow

renewing soil for Oak and her daughters

whose roots are like tentacles clinging to

this ancient granite mountain that is their homeland.

Waiting, we greet fire-scarred poplars standing upright

this final winter of their leafed lives

tenderly nursing spruce seedlings at their roots

in the slow spiral of forest regeneration.

Waiting, we walk the labyrinth

Where brown peat composts ancient forests that stood

aeons ago before the last glacier melted and

before Hades stole the Mother Right.

How long must we wait for the Mother’s resurgence?

Persephone, Chthonic Queen of Compost, Regeneratrix.

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