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Shunanummah Aaron Poem
Verse 1
She braided spring into her fingers
Walked the earth in gentle light
Every flower leaned toward her
Every dawn knew her by sight
Then the ground split open quietly
Like it knew her secret name
And the girl who carried summer
Learned the weight of winter’s claim
Pre-Chorus
No one asked if she was willing
No one heard her cry below
Chorus
Oh Persephone, crowned in shadow
Queen of what you never chose
Half your heart belongs to daylight
Half to silent underworld roads
They call it balance, call it order
But they never call it pain
You bloom between the living and the dead
And carry both their names
Verse 2
Her mother screamed into the seasons
Turned the fields to dust and bone
Grief made gods and mortals hungry
For a daughter not at home
Six red seeds like whispered promises
Stained her mouth, sealed her fate
Love or trap, the truth went unanswered
By the doors she couldn’t escape
Pre-Chorus
Even queens are born from loss
Even power has a cost
Chorus
Oh Persephone, crowned in shadow
Queen of what you never chose
Half your heart belongs to daylight
Half to silent underworld roads
They call it balance, call it order
But they never call it pain
You bloom between the living and the dead
And carry both their names
Bridge
They say you learned to love the darkness
That the throne became your own
But no one sings about the girl who fell
And woke up grown
Strength was stitched from stolen hours
Grace from wounds no one could see
She didn’t choose to be divided
She survived divinity
Final Chorus
Oh Persephone, bloom in shadow
Teach the world what spring can mean
That even roots in frozen soil
Still remember how to dream
You are not just Hades’ queen
Or Demeter’s stolen flame
You are the space between goodbye and growth
And nothing blooms the same
Outro
When flowers fall, they’re not dying
They’re learning how to return.
Copyright © Shunanummah Aaron | Year Posted 2026
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Shunanummah Aaron Poem
He’s a great painter,
hands skilled in light and shadow,
canvas after canvas bending to his will.
Landscapes, faces, still lifes
he’s captured them all,
each stroke praised, each color admired.
But this painting,
this one refuses to bend.
He needs the crimson pomegranate,
a shade that dances between ripeness and fire,
but every mixture of oil and pigment
falls flat, dull, lifeless.
He experiments, obsessively,
hours into nights,
days folding into each other.
Nothing achieves the hue he dreams.
Nothing breathes.
Then, in a sudden, terrible clarity,
he understands:
his perfect crimson pomegranate
requires human blood.
A chill spreads through him.
The formula whispers its demand.
Will he let obsession claim him?
Will he paint the color at the cost of life?
The canvas waits, unjudging,
but the choice…
the choice is his alone.
Copyright © Shunanummah Aaron | Year Posted 2026
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Shunanummah Aaron Poem
Morning arrives wearing fog
like a warning it never removes.
The village wakes slowly,
as if afraid to be seen.
Roofs drip secrets.
Windows blink once, then look away.
Names here are spoken softly,
so they don’t attract teeth.
The mist is not empty
it watches.
It remembers everyone
who tried to leave.
Footsteps disappear
almost as soon as they’re made,
as if the road itself
is tired of hope.
A bell tolls somewhere unseen,
counting lives instead of hours.
Even prayer echoes back altered,
older, hungrier.
Yet roses still bloom
dark, stubborn,
their thorns fluent in survival.
Children learn early
how to smile without trust,
how to run without direction,
how to listen for wings.
At night, the fog thickens,
stitched with moonlight and dread.
The castle looms, patient,
a thought that refuses to die.
But still
a candle is lit.
A door is barred.
A story is whispered.
In Barovia,
hope does not shine.
It smolders
quiet, defiant,
waiting for the mist
to blink first.
Copyright © Shunanummah Aaron | Year Posted 2026
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Shunanummah Aaron Poem
I used to fear how brief love is
how clocks betray the trembling heart,
how everything beautiful learns to leave.
But you arrived like a season that refused to end
not summer, not spring,
something gentler than warmth,
something older than time.
I would rather sit beside you
as the world forgets our names,
than inherit a thousand tomorrows
that never learned how to touch me.
Because ages are only useful to the lonely,
and I have you
enough eternity for any soul.
Your Entry –C.
Copyright © Shunanummah Aaron | Year Posted 2026
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Shunanummah Aaron Poem
Betwixt two thoughts there is a gap
No illusions therein entrap
In the time-stretched pause we then see
Ego craving is a mousetrap
The world holds its breath
between north and not-north,
a compass needle trembling
like a truth afraid to choose a side.
Ice forgets which way to fall.
Migratory birds stall mid-sky,
their wings writing question marks
across a stunned horizon.
Even the oceans hesitate
tides half-remembering old promises,
currents loosening their grip
on the maps we trusted.
In this pause,
history unbuttons itself.
Wars reconsider their reasons.
Lovers reexamine the words
they flung like stones.
What if attraction is only habit?
What if repulsion learned its name from fear?
The poles soften,
not erased, but listening.
Iron filings drift, confused,
forming unfamiliar constellations.
The earth hums a lower note,
a lullaby for spinning things.
I stand barefoot on unsure ground,
feeling gravity renegotiate its terms.
Up becomes a suggestion.
Down, a rumor.
In the silence between forces,
where no illusion tightens its grip,
we glimpse the trap for what it is
desire baited with self.
Here, in the gap between thoughts,
nothing pulls.
Nothing pushes.
And for a moment,
we are free
to choose again
what deserves our devotion,
and what we finally release.
Copyright © Shunanummah Aaron | Year Posted 2026
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Shunanummah Aaron Poem
The heart begins to count the beat
The blood repeats a vow in beat
The bones remember how to beat
Each step aligns with borrowed time
Each breath is tethered into time
The day taps out a hidden sound
The clocks pretend they all are sound
Our lives are trained to chase that sound
But silence bends the pulse askew
And teaches waiting something new
At night the stars contract and sway
Their distant fires all hum and sway
Galaxies learn how to sway
The rhythm widens, deep and slow
As space remembers how to go
The mind insists on perfect lines
It cuts the world in brittle lines
And trips across its measured lines
Yet chaos drums a truer song
And proves the counting was all wrong
I pause between the strikes I know
Release the urge to lead and know
What moves me does not need my know
The truest beat is letting go
And trusting what I can’t control
Tag:
Between the beats, I live.
Copyright © Shunanummah Aaron | Year Posted 2026
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Shunanummah Aaron Poem
We lit the month of love with flame
Assuming fate would think the same
You called me yours, your northern star
But sweetness curdled over time
Slowly cooled with time
and yet here we are
Copyright © Shunanummah Aaron | Year Posted 2026
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