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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required April is the month Persephone comes back from Tartarus, crossing the river of death, Styx, with her stillborn child in her breast. The river she crosses with her child though flows while carrying the empty souls, it does not move. The river she crosses for the sake of her child though ferries the dead on the boat, it shows no emotion. April is the month Persephone comes back to this side of the pool of memory holding dead child in her breast. For the curse of seven unripe pomegranate seeds became Hades’ chain, Persephone, who spent long and shivering cold winter months in the bosom of an unloved husband at Tartarus, comes back turning her relieved, yet deep anxious face, away from the bright sunlight shining on the other side of black poplars forest. April is the month Persephone, the childless mother, comes back as a rancorous sad lullaby, while soothing her swollen breasts with sighs, holding her stillborn child closely on her tight breast to let the child suck her teat. April is the month Persephone mourning in the black chiton comes back as a well of tears. Each time she advances, she cries because it is so pitiful for her to realize that the child in her arms is breathless. Each time she steps forward, she cries because it is so woeful for her to acknowledge that the child in her arms is soulless. April is the month the barren woman, Persephone, who lived in the netherworld to experience such a miserable life during the dark and long shivering winter months, comes back with the stillborn child wrapped in the quilt, woven with yarns spun from the threads of sighs as she warp of resentment, and yarns spun from the threads of tears as the woof of grudge, in her feeble weary arms.
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