Until spring comes, Persephone will fill the Styx with tears of longing for her mother. Caught in the prison of Hades’s grasping power, she mourns. Caught in the devil of the season, we wish it done.
We cry for hope. Hope that the dark sky opens. That sunlight shines on puddles and nourishes green shoots of grass. Grass like flying carpets. Take us from this dark country, soar high on a hope and a prayer.
A hope that Persephone and Demeter will be united in love of Mother Earth. Their garden will bloom again. A prayer for spring. For redemption.
Monica lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and two foster dogs. She taught parents how to raise their toddlers for twenty-five years before retiring in 2015 to write. The secret to toddlers is to make sure you get enough sleep. Monica hasn't found the secret to writing, yet, but is diligently working at it. See links to her on-line stories on the publications page.
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