The Return of Persephone

Last night beneath my blankets, I lay still.

I dreamt the moon had fled from winter’s wind.

Boreas slung his cape across the skies

and called his daughter, Celine, to dress

the countryside in her white wedding gown. 

I saw Persephone, late flee her fate,

departing leaves windblown from aspen trees 

flicking, flutter-dotting harlequin capes

on darkened hills. A flock of geese loud honked

last farewells, leaving high in V-wedged flight.

I strained to see through falling flakes 

how spruce, once tall, now bent to hold the snow, 

Celine’s winter weight, before I spied 

three leafless burr oaks standing lone night guard,

mad dog tri-heads at Hades’ final gate. 

I watched a cyclone twirl sharp sickle chards,

storm-blown, swirled clouds of dancing snow and ice

fast twisting, wind-screeching sharp to pierce

my sleep-short ears with shrill bagpipes 

convulsing pumped screams, freezing my heart.

In this cold hour, war-bloodied sands blew swift

across my barren, nightmare-challenged soul,

uncovering pits of settler corpses kidnapped,

fast slain, abandoned nameless warriors,  

unburied, dumped unknown in cold, mass graves.

My dream scene-shifted from blood-drowned war-fields

to glimpsing drones fast crunching low a town’s

dark cloud-sliced spires pulp-mashed with souls

all flattened within, their songful voices now stilled 

beneath smashed wooden beams, no bells to ring.

I wake this dawn, my night of terrors gone.

I hail Persephone’s promised voice. 

I join her songs of yellow daffodils, 

grape hyacinths, and viola whose notes

rewake spring bells to ring a pledge for peace.

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Jim Bellanca, a retired English teacher and educational publisher, initiated a poetry writing career at 87. He favors mixing themes of peace/no war, love, family, and nature, with sardonic observations of senior life. After raising four children in Chicago’s North Shore towns, Jim and his wife play bridge, garden, and enjoy senior living in Lake Forest, Illinois. In the past year, The Ethereal Haunted Journal, Down in the Dirt, The Aerial Journal, Witcraft, Sparks of Calliope and other publications have accepted Jim’s work.