Where My Heart Blooms

I remember the moment I was stolen.

The mortals say it was an abduction and to that I would agree.

When the earth split open in invitation, as the golden meadow fields of my childhood 

vanished behind me and I was dragged downwards.

 My breath hung heavy as I fell through the whispers of roots that once cradled me so sweetly and into his arms. 

He was nothing like the myths conjured up by oblivious mortals with too much time on their hands. 

No gnarled specter, no cruel kidnapper. 

His careful touch is filled with uncertainty as if he’s holding the most delicate, breakable flower and not a goddess. 

His very essence was deadcalm like the quiet lull before a storm. 

His eyes - endless, fathomless, awakened a hunger within which shook me to the bone. 

‘Persephone’ 

He murmured, neither as a demand nor a conquest, but a question.

I do not answer.

I am but a wildflower torn by its roots, 

My heart chained with a tempest of defiance and yet within hours, something inside me shifts.

A fault line in my soul cracking open,

 an undeniable truth. 

I realised that the Underworld was no prison,

 it was a mighty Kingdom, not a place of suffering, but a place of endings. 

And then there was him. 

I fell in love with him the way flowers turned towards the sun, not all at once but slowly, inevitably. 

I am my mother’s daughter, bound to sunlight and springtime, the sunlit world. 

So why was I drawn to the place where flowers wilt, to the God of the Underworld?

With each passing day, the chains on my heart grow lighter and lighter. 

Love blooms in unexpected soil as a flower originates from obscurity.

In his gaze, I find a strange solace, like a mirror reflecting my own troubles. 

I know of the heavy price this bond takes but I'll embrace this artifice, 

for in the cold, I found warmth I never sought. 

Hades doesn’t demand or force, 

He watched, ever the quiet sentinel, his eyes tracing my movement and memorising every breath I take. 

The underworld has soon become second skin to me and I, despite longing for the fields I have once danced in, began to wonder if I ever truly belonged to the light. 

The answer came not from me, but the heavens. 

The hush of the underworld was broken by the arrival of Helios, 

His golden sandals skimming the ashen grounds, his presence too bright for this world of stillness

He carries the weight of Olympus in his voice when he speaks :

‘Persephone, You must come. Your Mother grieves, the Earth is dying’

The sudden realisation overflowed within me as my heart clenches

The world above must be crumbling under her torment, the land parched, the trees barren. 

I should rejoice, I should be racing into Helios’ arms and demand he take me home. 

Yet something tightens, something deeper than duty, deeper than daughterly love. 

What if I do not wish to leave?

I search Hades’ face for a sign, some permission to say words I can’t even admit to myself. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes have a tinge of desperation, his hands lingers at his side, fingers curled, as if resisting the urge to reach for me. 

It feels like I’m being torn apart

I contemplate this heavily as my gaze fixates on the sole pomegranate resting on the table beside me, its skin gleaming like garnet in the dim torchlight

A sudden thirst grips me, not for water, nor wine, but the pomegranate

It's calling to me. 

I reach for it instinctively, pressing my nails into the flesh, revealing the blood-red seeds within. 

I do not hesitate 

I lift it to my lips and drink

The juice spills into my mouth, sharp and sweet, staining my tongue like a promise. I meant only to taste yet as the seeds settle down within me, I realise what I've done. 

I have bound myself

I do it in choice 

I do it in love

Helios’ eyes widen and a shadow asts over Hades’ face-one I cannot name. Something between sorrow and reverence, longing and relief

‘She has eaten’ Helios murmurs 

Silence falls 

‘Let her choose’ Hades finally speaks, eyes glinting and all. 

And so I do, 

I return to my mother as I must, stepping into the warmth of the sun

Into her arms

Into the scent of earth after rain

The world rejoices 

Flowers bloom where my feet touch the ground

Rivers swell with fresh aquatic life 

The Air itself hums with greatness upon my return

But when Autumn’s chill creeps into the wind, leaves blush red and gold, 

When the nights stretch long, I hear a different calling,

I return to him, stepping once more into the dim glow of our realm, his eyes dark with longing. He need not ask if I’d come willingly - he knew. He felt, just as I did, the pull of something greater than choice, greater than fate itself.

He took my hands in his, brushing his lips over my knuckles with the devotion of a man who knew what it meant to be alone and what it meant to be found.

‘My Queen’ He whispered, 

I am his. 

He is mine. 

I am no longer just the Goddess of Spring.

I am the Queen of the Underworld, 

A piece of Antithesis

And I have never been more myself.