autumn leaves they fall each November/ part 2

autumn leaves they fall each November/ part 2

fiction
edward w pritchard

Cora, my Cora return soon from the underground it's overwhelming when hostile nature ushers in Winter loneliness and darkness with endless flurries of useless, discarded leaves. I long to see the buds of fertile spring time beginning to spout in warm moist valleys.

Kore, my Kore we are in perpetual darkness here, the days are short and the nights are interminable awaiting your return. Your sudden disappearance has unsettled us all. When we will see your regal face again?

Persephone, you whose name may not be repeated or spoken, gone but not forgotten, in secret and in communal darkness we whisper your names and titles.

Carry an ear of corn with two clutched open hands if you must venerable queen, but return with the warm Spring rains to drive away Winter darkness and desolation.

Cora, Kore, Persephone I call your name but you do not answer, where have you gone my eternal feminine?

She who may not be spoken to; through three cycles I search for you in mythical places that do not exist on any map. Have you been abducted? When shall yesterday's harvest be renewed with the green buds of next gentle Spring?

Dance, dance she who is without legs or arms; should I fall far far below guide me through Hell to return to the light. Cora I call your name but you do not answer, Kore I preform the rituals but you do not appear. The harvest rots on the vine in barren fields awaiting ritual reunion. Alone in miserable anonymity we dare not speak your name mistress Queen Persephone; when shall next Spring budding commence anew?