The trouble with myths
is they don’t tell the whole story.
But unlike Orpheus,
I will not falter this time.
I walk into every darkness
for you, pay the ferryman
with my heart’s blood,
wait at the borders of the land
I cannot inhabit.
I do not leave without you.
It takes months to recover
every piece of you,
to scour every inch of this earth,
every dark cranny.
Like Persephone
at the Metropolitan Museum of Art,
your return is celebrated.
Standing by wine-dark flowers
the gold of your hair is defiant
and it breaks my heart
thinking of you.
But you’re safe now.
You’ll never be a consort again,
not like that.
Put these flowers
to your lips and drink
their summer.
I promise one day you’ll forget
the earth that fissured
and broke,
the dark chariot
dragging you into corners
and fists, how you gripped
anything that held,
always looking for a way back home.
Faith Allington is a writer, gardener and lover of mystery parties who resides in Seattle. Her work has recently appeared in various literary journals, including The Fantastic Other, The Quarter(ly), Bowery Gothic and FERAL.
photo by cottonbro studios and Алена (via pexels)
Crow & Cross Keys 