Persephone Rising

Persephone Rising

Let us not allow the dark,
inside the hell we’ve
lived for months on end,
to destroy our light.
Let us rise and shine,
brighter than Father Sun
smiles on each new bud.
Feel the change in the air,
know that soon
we too will be released
by our keeper below,
into the morning woods.

Let the seed stir
in the belly of the earth,
stir and awaken us
to the scent of snowdrops,
drifting downwards
into the dark underland.
Still, we have dreamt
of this moment all winter,
the moment we return
to the world above
and wash red stained hands
in the showers of spring.


© Deborah Gregory 2021
Image credit: Virginia Lee

22 thoughts on “Persephone Rising

  1. Lovely, Deborah. Thank you for this beautiful poem.

    I do, indeed, feel that Spring, in its many forms, has moved closer. Now I’m ready for those ‘morning woods’.

    1. Oh, thank you Cath for your lovely reply! Indeed, spring is almost upon us. I’ve just returned from the glorious ‘afternoon woods’ … worth every muddy slip and slide! x

  2. and wash red stained hands
    in the showers of spring.

    Those damn pomegranates!! I did wonder when you would be tempted to rise up from your Jungian rabbit hole. Thanks for sharing your delicious poem Deborah.

    Although I got my email okay I’m sorry you’re having website issues – how annoying. HF

    1. Obviously, it was too tempting and too tasty for poor Persephone! Aww, thank you for passing by and looking in Henry … hope all’s well with you and yours! It’s a headache to say the least and a rude awakening from three months of sleep, reading and no social media (which was heavenly!) still, I think it’s time for me to wake up, stretch and stir as we slowly approach spring … although spring looks far off when looking out the window … thankfully it’s not laying as we live at the very bottom of a steep hill! Sending snowy Imbolc blessings to you both, Deborah.

        1. I’m sure we’ll meet the Goddess Sophia in March … well at some point! I just need to sharpen the quill with a few writing exercises first to get me back into writing essays again … it’s been a while since The Divine Hermaphrodite! x

  3. Deborah I can feel the stirrings coming from below as is right and yet the brightness from above! The painting is as glorious as your words are. Thank you. Love from across the lands and seas ❤️

    1. Thank you so much Susan for the gift of your bright, radiant words on this snowy day here in the UK. I wrote this short poem based on Virginia’s incredible painting alone! If you follow my blog via WordPress please re-follow as there seem to be Gremlins in the works. Sending love, light and Imbolc blessings across the oceans between us, Deborah.

    1. Thank goodness Elaine! Sadly, my laptop has crashed today so my online life is being conducted via my phone … far from ideal but hey ho that’s how life sometimes goes! x

  4. So exquisite and gently hopeful, Deborah, on a wild wind, deep snow day. We had 24 inches (60 cm) of snow and it will stay unusually cold here for the next 10 days at least. The snow is here for a while, so I’m trying to adjust to not being able to get my feet on the earth. Snowshoes are a poor substitute, but they’ll have to do. I’m a long way from snowdrops and early crocus which usually come in late March. The winter feels permanent as does the isolation, but I often grumble and complain this time of year and your words bring hope. Every evening I watch how the sun edges north on the western horizon even if it’s not warming things much. The days are longer. Life stirs under the snow. Your words give me hope.

    Anna, I didn’t know the Louise Gluck poem and that unforgettable line, “I did not expect to survive.” Thank you for sharing it.
    Deborah, we’ll see if your new WordPress Reader will allow me to post a comment. I’ve tried every trick I know to get on your subscription list, all to no avail. Maybe I’ll ask our mutual friend Aladin if he has an idea because I’m no longer subscribed to your blog, but I just realized I can try my gmail account and see if that works. It’s worth a try. Love, light, and hope to you as you peek out of the rabbit hole.

    1. Wow! Thank you so much dear Elaine for your generous, kind-hearted reply! It’s a small mythological poem that streamed (and steamed!) down yesterday afternoon whilst on a break. Twenty four inches of snow … Eek! We have snow forecast for tomorrow but here down on the south coast it often falls no more than a few inches. Actually it’s been years since we’ve had more than even one foot of the white stuff.

      Oh, I love the Louise Gluck poem too, and have read it many times now. Everywhere I look now I’m seeing snowdrops and tiny daffodils beginning to open … which no doubt will be closing sharply tomorrow!

      I got both comments but this one unfortunately went into my spam folder and I’ve only just found it this afternoon at 4pm using my wife’s computer as mine is needing to go to the repair shop … if only such places were open due to the pandemic … so I’m having to conduct my blogging life via my phone, which is not great, not at all. I have no idea how to fix WP but as my laptop is busted I do wonder if there’s a connection with both?

      Never mind, this time next week hopefully things will be improved and you’ll be able to get back outdoors with Willow and Disco and enjoy your beautiful woodland trails once again. Love, light and Imbolc blessings, Deborah.

  5. How wonderful to see an image and be inspired to write a poem straight away…and one that is timed exactly for Imbolc, yet, it is also a poem of this time. A time where we have been holding our collective breath as the pandemic rages cruelly and we wait for its power to subside and for us all to be released back into lighter days…both in spirit and nature.

    You have woven the words describing this waiting and changing time so beautifully Deborah, thank you. Many Imbolc blessings to you, Sophia.

    1. It’s true, as soon as I saw Virginia’s incredible painting I was totally transfixed! I call this one of my “coffee poems” as I wrote it yesterday afternoon in the time it took to sit and enjoy my hot drink. Thank you so much Sophia for the gift of your wonderful words! Yes, it’s a perfect image for this time isn’t it … when as you say we’re all holding our collective breath as the pandemic rages on.

      On a separate note can I ask if you received a notification email re WordPress as I think there may be some glitches going on? Thank you in advance. Imbolc blessings, Deborah.

      1. Sorry to hear that you’ve been having website problems Deborah – I did get a notification email but I think with WordPress they do tend to have the odd Gremlin getting into the system and eating up emails…well actually eating anything as Gremlins often do!!

        1. Thank you. Ha-Ha! I think there must be Gremlins inside my laptop too as it crashed for hours today! Well, fingers crossed the Gremlins move on, soon! x

  6. I did know somehow, that your inner Persephone will rise, once, at least, to utter such a beautiful poem. It helps our souls to get warmer a little, in this chilly time. Thank you, my forever friend.

    1. Thank you so much Aladin for your beautiful reply! Yes, Persephone started stirring within on Monday this week and so a couple of days later I came across the wonderful painting above and yesterday felt like the right moment to sit down with Her. Imbolc Blessings, Deborah.

  7. Deborah, I did wonder when you would emerge from your rabbit hole and so was happy to see your post today. ‘Persephone Rising’ is a wonderful, fitting tribute for not only Imbolc but for lockdown too. ‘Persephone’ by the artist Virginia Lee is absolutely incredible.

    I saw my first snowdrops of the year on Monday, heralding the end of winter and giving much needed light and hope as we approach spring. All the best, Anna.

    Ps. Thank you for letting me know about your WordPress problems. How annoying!

    1. Thank you so much Anna! Yes, I was rudely awoken yesterday and came grumbling (hmm, do rabbits grumble?!) up for air … where I was told by my new website host that all my blog followers had disappeared which seemed ironic since it was me who had disappeared last year! I’ve since added a new “subscribe” box which will help with any future issue I’m told.

      Okay, back to the poem and your sighting of those snowdrops. Well, I saw the amazing Persephone painting a few days ago and couldn’t take my eyes of it. Yes, it’s the perfect illustration for Imbolc, lockdown and self-isolation! I read on Virginia’s website that she worked on the Lord of the Rings (Tolkien) films with Peter Jackson, not surprised, such is her talent!

      Oh, I love snowdrops and didn’t realise they even had a light scent until last year. As a child I remember they were the first flower each year to bloom along the country lane we lived down so I always knew where we were during the season and how foxgloves quickly became my all-time favourite flower from an early age. I call snowdrops, my little prophets of hope!

      Imbolc blessings, Deborah.

      1. Here’s a favourite poem by Louise Gluck which I expect you know well.


        Do you know what I was, how I lived? You know
        what despair is; then
        winter should have meaning for you.

        I did not expect to survive,
        earth suppressing me. I didn’t expect
        to waken again, to feel
        in damp earth my body
        able to respond again, remembering
        after so long how to open again
        in the cold light
        of earliest spring–

        afraid, yes, but among you again
        crying yes risk joy

        in the raw wind of the new world.

        1. Wow! Thank you for posting “Snowdrops” Anna! No, I’d never read it before. I’m just blown away by how perfectly it fits with lockdown too. Life, death, birth and rebirth, terror and sanity … I mean the whole shebang! Now as I awake from my own winter hibernation, I scramble up shocked that I survived what has felt like such a harrowing time. A shocking poem of great depth, I love it! Thank you again!

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