Only in the darkness after the rhombuses of Phaeton's reflected fury had faded did Persephone see Hades, and like the light, the brightness of his visits had lessened.
Persephone herself had begun the tricky business of trying to translate the stories of creatures to one another, telling them as best she could, but she was just learning. It was exhausting but rewarding; elves, salamanders, spiders, and satyrs loved to hear their stories, particularly their own, but there were always a few who were never satisfied. Could've been better, said the trolls, but they never did try it themselves.
As consuming as the stories were, Persephone had vowed to always make time for Hades, and he was always in her heart. But the demands on the king were so great that he often forgot her in the heat of his life, and she was left behind. Although he said he loved her, Persephone saw less of him and more and more her decision to stay caused her heartache that crept into her eyes and her stomach. A line of tension split her brow now, and her shoulders curved inward as though trying to protect the heart she had already given away.
Here, said Hades, seeing her distress, maybe this will help, and handed her something red. Is it your heart? she asked. No, he said smiling. In her hands she held a large crimson pomegranate.
As she held it, a picture grew in her mind: Hades sat in the shade of an enormous single leaf growing from a plant rooted beneath the ground. The sprout was a woman, a womb that grew the seed, the vital connection between solitary Hades and another figure deep beneath the ground: a man with no skin crying endless tears. In a moment, Persephone knew this was Hades, the sensitive man hidden in the earth who the ruling king could only connect with through the vessel of a woman. Her heart broke open as she split the pomegranate and chose six seeds, taking it all in. In the darkness, she knew the injunction: if you consume anything offered in the hidden kingdom, you are then bound to it. Eyes closed, seeing everything, she put the seeds in her mouth, teeth crushing the blood of the fruit into her. Yes, she said.
As days and nights worked seamlessly into each other, Persephone watered the seeds with tears of frustration and confusion. Hades became a shade, slipping further away into the life he had kept separate from hers and Persephone wandered, bringing him what she found. Look, she said, I found these amazing creatures that live next to me. Would you like to meet them? No, said Hades, they aren't anything I'd like, I'm sure. I'm sorry, she said, confused, I don't want to push. Sometimes you have to push, said Hades. Mind tied now in knots, Persephone said nothing.
One day as she was wandering alone she saw came upon a pool she had never seen before. Lapping waves of light slipped over the cliffs near the pool, condensing into bands of brightness and expanding apart. The brightness captivated her, but the beams that brought it here was untraceable. No motes lit up to show the path of the light's travel to the underground. Persephone skirted the edge of the pool (bodies of water in Hel could be treacherous, causing deaths of all kinds to the no longer living), peering in. For all the jumping light, there was no motion on the surface which lay as still as a mirror.
On the still plane, she saw herself for what seemed to be the first time in years: now, grey licked up her temples and a large dent resided between her brows. How long had she been here? Leaning closer, Persephone dropped the open pomegranate into the water and a drop splashed onto her lip. As she fished the halves out, she opened her mouth to the bead of water.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Persephone IV: lacuna
"You're not ready to have a relationship with me." She was filled with a great sense of calm certainty and peace as she spoke the words that summed up months of bewilderment. The room filled with the rich silence, rippling against the walls. What was she doing here then? "You want a lover not a partner," she said into the silence. Could she do that? After everything that had happened, all the words that had been spoken, all the joys and desires, could she be only bawdy with no vision?
Persephone had taken to wandering the subterranean spaces, discovering shifting patches of filtered light mysteriously reflected underground. As the sun drove its way across the sky, packs of photons glanced from surface to surface and on, leaving shaking pools of brightness that moved through the roots and crevices. The beams were like a cord tying the shadow realm to its brighter cousin, and if they could be followed through caves and chasms would show a way out of Hel.
Since the night Hades had spent unconscious in Persephone's bed, there had been a shift. Persephone was aware of how little Hades moved toward her, or with her. Want to go for a walk in the light of the full moon reflected in the river? she would ask. No, he had said, I'm tired. Let's go walking in the roots of the forest, she'd said. No, I'm too busy. I'm excited to meet your neighbour, your mother, she had told him. Look, he had responded, don't pressure me about my family or our relationship; live in the moment.
But at that moment she had been excited to know him, his family, his life, and wanted to share hers. The light of that feeling dimmed as time passed, the feeling of connection grew narrower and narrower. It was as though he was content with her to simply fill a space near him, and anything more than that was an annoyance.
It was one of these days that the words were spoken, creating a space where anything was possible: new beginnings, endings, anything. And in that silence, Persephone thought: Here I am, I wouldn't be here for nothing, would I? He says he loves me so it must be true. There is no one else, I love him, why not stay and see if one day he can love me more like he says he will be able?
It seems like we're both ambivalent about this relationship, said Hades, interrupting her thoughts. Shock rang through Persephone. She was anything but ambivalent. She had made a conscious decision to follow her heart and stay despite the dangers of the beast, the complications of raising children and Hades' hiding heart. The seed of doubt now grew, coming to a head in a tight bud on the edge of blossom. But she wasn't ambivalent; she decided again she would wait and show him that she was there and loved him.
Let's build a garden, she said, remembering all the discussions they'd had about the sanctity of food. It's a lot of work and I have so many other tasks, he said, sliding away from her, besides, there's not enough light here. But what else was worth the effort, she wondered. Persephone looked out to where some mysteriously reflected sun was shining on a patch of ground near the house. Look, she said, turning to Hades, but he had gone.
Persephone had taken to wandering the subterranean spaces, discovering shifting patches of filtered light mysteriously reflected underground. As the sun drove its way across the sky, packs of photons glanced from surface to surface and on, leaving shaking pools of brightness that moved through the roots and crevices. The beams were like a cord tying the shadow realm to its brighter cousin, and if they could be followed through caves and chasms would show a way out of Hel.
Since the night Hades had spent unconscious in Persephone's bed, there had been a shift. Persephone was aware of how little Hades moved toward her, or with her. Want to go for a walk in the light of the full moon reflected in the river? she would ask. No, he had said, I'm tired. Let's go walking in the roots of the forest, she'd said. No, I'm too busy. I'm excited to meet your neighbour, your mother, she had told him. Look, he had responded, don't pressure me about my family or our relationship; live in the moment.
But at that moment she had been excited to know him, his family, his life, and wanted to share hers. The light of that feeling dimmed as time passed, the feeling of connection grew narrower and narrower. It was as though he was content with her to simply fill a space near him, and anything more than that was an annoyance.
It was one of these days that the words were spoken, creating a space where anything was possible: new beginnings, endings, anything. And in that silence, Persephone thought: Here I am, I wouldn't be here for nothing, would I? He says he loves me so it must be true. There is no one else, I love him, why not stay and see if one day he can love me more like he says he will be able?
It seems like we're both ambivalent about this relationship, said Hades, interrupting her thoughts. Shock rang through Persephone. She was anything but ambivalent. She had made a conscious decision to follow her heart and stay despite the dangers of the beast, the complications of raising children and Hades' hiding heart. The seed of doubt now grew, coming to a head in a tight bud on the edge of blossom. But she wasn't ambivalent; she decided again she would wait and show him that she was there and loved him.
Let's build a garden, she said, remembering all the discussions they'd had about the sanctity of food. It's a lot of work and I have so many other tasks, he said, sliding away from her, besides, there's not enough light here. But what else was worth the effort, she wondered. Persephone looked out to where some mysteriously reflected sun was shining on a patch of ground near the house. Look, she said, turning to Hades, but he had gone.
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