Spring Awakening

image by jujulica.tumblr.com

Let it be known that Persephone never consented to anything.
She didn’t know the consequences of those six seeds,
didn’t know the consequences of having both budding breasts and brown skin like the Earth,
like her mother,
who knew it would become a problem
sooner rather than later.
Let it be known that her father never bothered to learn how to do her hair
and never bothered to stay in her life long enough to see how big it had become,
like the head of a dandelion,
mistaken for a weed.
Let it be known that Zeus only knows how to use his thunderbolts instead of his words
and that is an act of violence
and maybe, Demeter knew what was up all along.
Knew that her daughter would never be able to be a child
so long as she looked like her.
The world looks at our girls and sees fully grown women,
ripe and ready for the picking,
when only the scabs on their knees have completely sprouted.
They look at two brown legs like roots,
only to be dug up, like an unwanted thing.
And the Earth is such an unwanted thing,
a wild thing,
like a girl thing in springtime,
like brown knees being carted away by cold hands,
such a wild Thing.
Let it be known that Zeus and Hades were only doing what was in their nature.
Exploitation, conquest,
the Spring Cleaning of a garden,
the rape of Persephone.
How quickly girlhood is stripped from the mouths of children with earth-brown skin and flower bud hearts.
Let it be known that Hades uprooted her, kissed her between her thighs and left “Woman” on her tongue.
In the spring, she returns to Demeter,
like a flower whose buds were pried open too soon,
a little bruised
but only on the inside.
Persephone cradles herself into her mother’s arms,
whispers,
“Mommy,
make me a witch.
So I can always remember what spring feels like on my skin,
so I can always be in bloom.”

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