Demeter
Snow and ice are seen as this wonderful conception
of God’s power. It indicates purity—snow white—a worldly
reset to make way for the wonders of nature.
Cruel, volatile nature. They never seem to warn you
that on the way down, your body sore and stiff from the wind,
to brace yourself for the abrasive surface.
My joints are an oxymoron. Moving around, immobility vying for warmth.
Your gentle touch on my skin, brushing against my face in sweeping strokes
as you attempt to support me is all that I can feel in this desolate Hell.
They say that Hell is red and burning, making your skin ripple
and bubble but in reality, Hell is this. It is a worldly reset,
eradicating everything in its wake as a form of cosmic cleansing.
You carry me a desperate few foot across the landscape; icy landscapes
that stretch out far beyond us, beyond our humanity. We were fools.
Distant, hopeful lights end up lost in the pure white glow.
Eyes sleepily follow snowflake trajectory. It falls from the sky in
much the same way your tears melt into me, revitalizing
whatever of my poor soul is left. Hellish fury.
This is what Demeter felt, isn’t it? Unholy temper. Grieving
the loss of her daughter by forcing the world
to understand what Hell feels like—
Jagged. Abrupt. Unforgiving.
I wonder if Persephone ever found her,
trapped in a block of her own suffering?
She cries, like you. Just like us,
even her own eyes could not melt her free.
Clara Guidry (she/her) is a Creative Writing student at Northwestern State University. She has placed as a finalist in the NSU-Argus Award for Excellence in Creative Writing and has published work in All Existing Literary Magazine and a future publication of Argus Literary Magazine. She enjoys Flash Fiction, Dark/Urban Fantasy, and Poetry. She can be found on Instagram at @DragonChaser915.