Seeds of Shadow

I descend.

Not softly.

Not asking.

Not lost.

The earth opens, and I step into shadow as if I made it myself.

Seeds burn in my belly,

each one a spark of what will become,

a sweetness wrapped in fire.

I taste them willingly,

letting the heat curl through me like rivers under ice.

I am maiden.

I am queen.

I am hunger and gravity.

I am petals and stone,

blood and blossom,

the pulse of the dark beneath the light.

Hands reach for me,

for love, for mercy, for claim.

I am none of these.

I am the pulse beneath them,

the shadow they cannot touch,

the inevitability they cannot name.

I carry love like a crown,

like a river twisting through caverns,

like the slow, steady pull of the dark moon,

like wind threading through bare branches,

like fire held deep inside the chest.

I am remembered in absence,

desired in fear,

sought in longing,

yet untouched, unclaimed, unbent.

I rise.

Always.

I am Persephone.

And the world bends to the inevitability of me.

Reviews

[Rosie C]

This has a punch to it.

I’m really impressed by this poem. It’s a work of art.

Deep and complex choice of words.

It’s hitting, it’s throwing, this piece is truly alive.

Exciting to read. Fulfilling to learn and reflect from it.

[Curly Grace]

Thank you, Rosie. I’m really glad the piece landed with that kind of energy for you. Your words mean a lot.