I can see Persephone
waving to me
as we pull our way
toward the opposite shore.
The crossing is dark,
barely lit by a spark,
that seems to glow
and grow from the deep.
For a moment, I'm blind,
afternoon light floods in
as I struggle to climb
out of sleep. Then again,
and a whoosh, as our hull
scrapes the ground—
with a rush we’ve emerged,
from the night.
Sudden sunlight bursts free,
Yet, squinting, I see
a dim, but heartbreaking,
sight—lovely Persephone,
in a vanishing fog, motioning,
still waving to me.
(c) 2017, by Hannah Six
Image: The Return of Persephone, Frederick Leighton, 1891
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