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.
Trusting that a friendly welcome
would be offered by all,
they set their fine wings aside,
as only divine goddesses can,
hiding their green and gold robes
under dark travelling cloaks.
Demeter and her daughter
knocked on many locked doors,
yet not one was opened
until they reached the poet’s house.
Set on the west side of the village,
a home where she had wed
and was growing old with her wife,
a place where many strangers,
lost, weary and wounded,
had called upon them for healing.
As soon as Persephone tapped,
the door was opened by
two mid-life, creative women,
soul friends and lovers for years.
Stooping beneath a low beam,
the goddesses were greeted
as longed-for, welcome strangers,
where a refreshing bath
and delicious fruit was offered.
The fireplace, raked and relit,
replenished Hestia’s hearth,
while stories and kindness flowed
between each woman’s heart,
until sleep and dreams beckoned.
In the morning the poet rose
and noticed her guests had gone,
leaving a note on the table
beside a beautiful silver pen,
asking that, in return for kindness,
she was to write out one wish
and place it in the fire that night.
And so the poet pondered,
but not for too long
as she put pen to paper.
“Let the same hour take us,
so that neither of us
has to see the other’s grave
or bury the other in darkness.
That day let our toes take root,
let bark spread up our legs
and, as we finally put our arms
out to embrace each other,
let this poet become an Oak
and my love, a Linden.”
And so, when the time came,
Demeter and Persephone
placed them side by side,
overlooking a sacred landscape
where their beautiful branches,
right from the beginning,
began slowly to embrace.
With their roots gently braided
they created a canopy of love,
above and below Mother Earth.
In scented skirts of wildflowers,
held together by love-knots
and everlasting forget-me-nots,
two goddesses in the greenwood
rise rooted, wild as the wind,
with the light of stars in their hair.
Behold the Divine Feminine
on the path of transformation,
widening and deepening,
anchoring the love between them.
Copyright © Deborah Gregory 2020
“If we surrender to the earth’s intelligence
we could rise up rooted, like trees.” ~ Rilke
Inspired by the Greek myth of Baucis and Philomen by Ovid