It was the night before Persephone
was set to return to Hades,
when a terrible storm descended
as she and her mother,
two goddesses in the greenwood,
noticed a gathering of houses
through autumn’s falling leaves.
Places in which they hoped
to seek warmth, food and shelter
for their last night together.
I shall remember this hour
reading in my garden chair,
sheltered from the scorching sun
as pale butterflies dance above.
The Green Man turns my gaze
to the giant kale leaves beside me,
planted deep in the soil of truth.
I watch in wonder as hundreds
of light-and-dark caterpillars
eat a journey of one inch,
until each leaf comes to resemble
a green lace handkerchief.
In a room where silence fell like snow
She pinned the number on her dress
Hours before she jumped
That silent Sunday afternoon
Inches and miles away
From the white chalk farmland
Where a sea of darkness
And steering winds waited
They loved how they had broken her
Made her their own
Once more herding her back
Into the seven-fold flock
Where this liberated sheep
In her post shepherd world
Had once defied the master’s crook
From the outside it looks as if I’m cutting my life short
but from the inside it looks very different.
From the moment I was born I knew I was old enough to die,
for death seems to be my very purpose.
Living in order to die, I am amazed at how much
life and death seem to complete each other.
As my individuality grows so does the idea of suicide,
for until I choose death I cannot choose life.
It takes courage, I found out, to choose the ordeal of life,
to continue life knowing what a horror it is!
Some choose life because they are afraid of death,
some choose death because they are afraid of life.