A Poem

(Image generated with AI)

Elegy of Ether and Earth

Above the snow

is the color of smoke

and violet.  

I found Her buried under some 

twenty-five feet of it...  

on hiatus maybe?

Somewhere, somehow below.

I peered down that narrow fissure:

passed the woodchips, stones, earth,

and still beyond—

in the darkness, 

Her outline.  

I cried to Demeter!

“How does she live, 

how does she eat?”

She answered coldly:

A single pomegranate seed 

sliced through the sky

cutting through the thin, frozen corridor.  

Years passed; I continued

to visit.  

I dangled honey herbs

and sweet meats from strings

tied to my wrists hoping she would wake

or at least rouse from hunger.  

1,827 days 

and it was Winter each time 

I arrived at Her site.

Some grow weary in cold and frost.

I cannot since I have seen 

that dead body,

and it is beautiful. 

My outings to her tomb

grew lengthy over time.

When I knew 

I would need to travel from 

much farther away, I cried. 

Aphrodite Urania must have

taken pity, overhearing

my empty pleas.

Cloyingly, she said,

“Speak directly, and she will stir.”  

I nearly fell down Her fracture, 

rushing to that place 

I visited so many times before,

exhilarated I knew 

how to remove her layers

of slumber.  

Into the abyss I peered,

“Hello?...”

No answer…

…

…

I whispered without hope,

“I love you.”  

And

she came,

was mine.  

I should have taken heed

at Aphrodite’s words.

Favors always come

in quiet 

exchange.

We were allowed Spring,

but only at Her site.

And the land would grip me,

there,

until the birds would change direction, 

reminding me to return home.

I could not keep Her.    

So the thousand-mile crossing

is my own.

Through clustered hills

and lamenting rivers I continue to

traverse.

Once, because I feared 

she would have died 

forever.

Now because age and time 

will unquestionably

run down my body.

And I will be forced

to cease my journey.

I will join her, others, and the Earth,

and softly above the winter snows,

the color of smoke

and violet 

will persist in life,

as I did. 

--jazzie de leon