Thursday, March 27, 2014

Persephone; a poem by Diane Dehler


I can be seen
Slipping down the dusk
In a thin black boat.
Oars made of my 
Wooden love, send 
Chilly notes of reproach 
Through watery channels.
I pass beneath frozen
Rocks that dazzle me
Cold black and grey designs.
A solitary bell tolls,
Persephone’s bell
Ringing an ancient time.
One moment past tragedy
Hours before dawn.
Remembering roses and
Sunlight, windy clouds,
Rain on my face. 
There are crevices where 
My eyes once were.
You who have tasted the
Bitter red fruit 
Of love, we know one 
Another you  and I.

Diane Dehler

Published in the Taj Mahal Review Vol. 12 Number 2

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