Persephone and Hades

It was morning year, and the white heavens were breaking
on the surface of the water.
Where the water was not touched,
the land sparkled—the depths of the heavens
could not, the depths of the water, penetrate.
Instead it fumed and rolled and wisped into the light.

There is such beauty in this light—
seen through the foaming mist, breaking
darkness. Yet light could not penetrate
the depths of the water.
White kisses from the heavens
covered the dying earth. They touched

my skin, they touched my hair, but not you they touched.
These white kisses nor the light
will ever reach you, in a grave that only reflects the heavens.
This morning my whole world is breaking.
There is no cooling balm or water
that could this pain penetrate.

Where you are I cannot follow, for my soul can only penetrate
the depths of hell. Before I touched
you, and before you pushed my heart back under water,
we were a match as pure as this morning light.
Your love was my undoing, breaking,
and assured me only you would sing in the heavens.

Yet to reside in a house made of dewy heavens
which the darkness of this world could not penetrate
was never my dream. That would be breaking
me into these soft kisses, touched
by misted winds and cool light.
But I am the water.

I am the darkness in the water,
and I reflect the heavens.
I was drawn to your love, yet did not know it to be light,
which could not penetrate
this facade no matter how much you touched.
There was never a point of breaking,

only light bending to a death beneath the water
where white heavens were breaking on the surface
and where they touched they could not penetrate.

Christina Richards
October 14, 2010

_______________________________________________


Linked here is a description of the Sestina, the form used to produce this poem, from University of Pennsylvania's website: http://writing.upenn.edu/~afilreis/88/sestina.html