Persephone’s Lament

In Greek mythology, Persephone is the Queen of the Underworld. She was the daughter of Demeter, who is the Goddess of fertility and bountiful harvests. Persephone’s story is used to explain the shifting of seasons and is known all over the world as one of the most famous Greek goddesses.

The story says that Persephone often enjoyed playing with the Naiads, who were freshwater-dwelling nymphs. One day, while Demeter was harvesting her bounty, and the water nymphs were distracted, Persephone wandered away to pick a flower. When she plucked the flower from the earth, the ground split open beneath her and Hades came thundering through with his chariot and horses. The capture happened so swiftly that no one saw where she went.

When Demeter discovered her daughter’s whereabouts, she demanded that Hades return her. However, while she was in the underworld, Persephone consumed six pomegranate seeds. Some say she was forced or tricked, while others speculate that she willingly ate them so she could safely return to her husband each year. In Greek mythology, when someone accepts food from a captor, they are bound to return to them.

The spring and summer is when Persephone is in the care of her mother. In her joy, Demeter makes flowers bloom and crops flourish. In the autumn, Persephone returns to the underworld, and Demeter lets the world die back in mourning, once more awaiting her daughter’s springtime arrival.

I've taken  the story of Persephone and reworked it as a psychological piece, so that it is time for Persephone to returns to the underworld, but this in fact is more like seasonal affective disorder, the depression that comes with the coming autumn and winter and shortening days. The shadowy image of "the stalker" could be internal, as much as it could be an M.R. James kind of ghostly figure.

Persephone’s Lament

Days are shorter, and I must leave the light
Descending into the darkness of the night
I know the shadow comes to enfold me
And deep, deep underground I will be
Already leaves turning brown and fall
The birds migrate, with farewell call
Those autumn pastimes: my goodbye
As storm clouds race across the sky
Here is harvest home, pumpkin pie
Nuts, apples, grapes, berries picking
Grain threshing, dancing and feasting
Bonfire burning leaves, cider drinking
Conker playing, but my world shrinking
As the earth begins again to slowly die
And now come cold winds, over land
The holidaymakers have fled the sand
Beaches empty, just the dog walker
In the mist, in the distance, my stalker
Coming my way, running, rag and bone
As the tide crashes down upon the stone
And there is no escape, no place to flee
As the Grey King comes to capture me