To Descend

I stand a descendant of persephone 

holding my heavy bones come fall 

this life granted only a secret permission 

to leave a place with one rule 

not far from apple and snake,

an underworld with river and dog.

Still each year I stay, silently holding my ticket

for a boat they say goes but one way, 

so choose and choose wisely. 

Yet the underworld holds many layers, 

and I lack the confidence to play 

judge for where we stand now.

I hold no knowledge or map of its weaving chambers 

me the willing eater of an alien fruit,

incapable still of finding 

the weightlessness necessary for flight.

Down here with blue flames

compelled and complicit

dining on pomegranates with Hades

I fear another reality.

Is there a world left to leave our fantasies? 

A place for dreams to remain immaculate.

Perhaps sometimes, somethings are better still

left to the divine 

the chance to remain entire

an entirely imaginary existence 

with all manner of visions a sweet life can carry.

An eternity of less substance and more wonder

whole, gauzily happy

a land of lazy golden hour

slow motion skipping on the deck

that holds no human foot.