Return Again , Ode to Kore
M. L. E. Brown
When I delve into deep mirrors
and interrogate the winds,
they tell me you are gone
and they think I am a fool
though The Old One reassures me.
in the hard of winter,
the leaves, red-knuckled,
finally give way, driven by
the blanketing snow.
The mornings are hard and
the long nights impossible
but, gritting my teeth,
I will bear Hades' indifference
The Old One dies but fleetingly
Her voice lasts, firm and sage,
To guide my tiring spirit;
Til, spring-perfumed and daffodiled,
You dance out from the river's gloss,
Up from the Underworld,
Your pockets full of stolen seeds
To complete our joint reflection—
We: the Mother and the Crone,
Re-rescued by the Maiden…