Persephone -a bit of writing

I WAS PERSEPHONE by Sareena Sandhu June 1998

I watched in awe as the blind red dirt
Covered my torso.
Seeming unreal
Whispering to the fourth wind
The one which does not make a sound or motion
As it blinds and pushes you in defiant instinct.

Thrown to hungry wolves
They are amused
My composure is self-withstanding
I am forged with metal which wraps its forceful nature upon my back.

And I am in Hades,
The cruel depths speak their darkness in my ear,
Offering my throat no moisture,
My lips no water
My body no protection

Scorched flame teaches me.
Four directions, four elements
Circle, spiral, square
A maze leads me into rage
Where I fight Dragons
They are fierce, tested, and competent.
And, for seconds, defeating me.
I created them.

I am melting like a final branch in fire.
Leaving little residue.
I am changing
There is less of me. What happened to the other parts?

I am fighting this with everything I’ve got.
In Hades, no one believes in God.
Even the fickle Crone is harsh.

The hole in my belly is rising.
I thought fire filled it,
But created a parched, burnt offering
To my gods of Hope
I give it to minions finally.

Take it. It is yours.
There is nothing left.
A slow black coal-filled space.
I have not seen the sun for three years now.
Fires erupted now resemble burial remains.

There is an opening.
A labyrinth
A smile beckons me.
Hecate pauses now.
Child you have endured.
You are chiseled with an iron tool.
I give you back to the world.
As you have healed,
Heal it too.