Year of the Inner Goddess

October 2023 – Audio Version

Persephone sighed, rubbing her hazel eyes. Being the Goddess of Spring was not precisely what she had envisioned when she assumed the mantle. Persephone had imagined days of gentle spring rain, flitting from crocus to daffodil to caress their delicate petals and long days laying under the gentle sun as her hammock swayed in the soft south breeze. Persephone’s fingers moved to massage her aching temples. Spring meant fierce storms that tore at her hair and body, freezing ice on tender buds she tried so valiantly to protect, and the painful stretching of growth and rebirth all around her. Persephone did not mind the hard work, the mud, and the muck. She actually found a certain solace in the scent and feeling of burying her fingers into fresh, good earth. The giddy joy a plant or tree felt as she lovingly buried its roots in the warm earth filled her with delight. Nevertheless, it was the constant battle with Winter, the push and pull vying for dominance of the earth, that had made Persephone bone weary and discouraged. 

The day had been an especially fierce one for her. Buffeted on multiple fronts, Persephone felt frazzled and overwhelmed, with too many emotions twisting and curling within her petite frame. She was unsure if she wanted to scream with the thunder, rage with the lightning, laugh with manic release, or just collapse on her bed and sob until the tears refused to flow. The world was just too much, or maybe she was too much. 

Persephone turned the key in her lock. The swinging door revealed the face of her love, comfortably waiting on her sofa. She wanted to cry; Hades was not supposed to be there so early. Purple amethyst irises and snowy baby’s breath waited for her on the coffee table, already neatly arranged.  Persephone often brought blossoms home for herself, but Hades had surprised her with “I knew you had a long day” flowers. She was briefly puzzled. Irises were not even in season…where had he found them??

Barely inside her door, all the woe and stress of her day came pouring out like a sudden April thunderstorm. Persephone paced as she vented the frustration and anger of her day, hands gesticulating wildly, sometimes repeating an anecdote in her vexation. Poor Hades bore the brunt of the storm. In spite of it all, he tuned his soul to the rhythm of her sore heart. He waited patiently on the couch, listening to the tumult, his fingers folded yet relaxed on his thighs. At last, deflated and exhausted, Persephone collapsed on the couch, her weary body spread over the surface, her head limp in his lap. She had nothing more to give, nothing more to say as she lay spent in his presence. Hades began running his fingers through her sapphire hair, soothing away her troubles with every brush of his broad fingers. His deep voice settled the agitated vibrations of her heart as their souls found quiet communion together. 

After a bit, Persephone rose to refresh herself under the cool waterfall. Hades had soothed the storm; however, Persephone needed a moment to rinse away the day’s heat, recenter her core, and chase away the last strands of swirling clouds. Returning to his embrace clad in cozy emerald joggers and a silky raven wrap-around, her body went slack as Hades curled his great body around her. Persephone sighed in deepest contentment. 

It was odd, she mused. In a manner of speaking, the Overworld was thought to be the place where one found order and happiness, avoiding the unknown darkness below. Yet, Persephone found herself escaping that world more and more often for the secure understanding blossoming with the King of the Underworld. All too well, Persephone understood darkness, sometimes losing her way in the twisting caverns of despair and gloom until the fire of her heart was barely glowing coals. The Underworld was wholly different from what she expected. Hades, too, understood anguish and hopelessness and strove to create a realm where magic sparkled in the night, where souls danced with their demons without fear. With the King of the Underworld, Persephone had a feeling of freedom, a chance to catch her breath, and, most importantly, she was safe to spread her wings and be herself without obligation or criticism. 

Hades was like no one she knew, unexpected and puzzling at the same time. No man or Olympion god had treated Persephone with such tender care, accepting her demons and modulating their hearts to the beat of her own shattered soul. Hades did not change who he was for her but opened his vulnerable soul, revealing who he was and loving Persephone for everything she was. Not who she used to be, not who she might be, but for everything she was, just as she was. 

Persephone nuzzled closer. Her expanding feelings of love, admiration, wonder, gratitude, esteem, and devotion enveloped her—such a stark contrast to the negative emotions that had threatened to drown her only hours before. The polar opposite sensations welled within her breast while Hades placidly continued running his fingers through the long strands of her hair. Peresphone wondered how she could communicate and expound all the emotions and meanings coursing through her heart and mind to him. Could Hades already sense them? Words failed her. The sentences forming in her mind fell to pieces before they could be uttered. Her soul needed to express itself in sacred, intimate communion. 

Her heart swelling with love, she moved from their cuddled position on the couch to straddle her love. Persephone smiled at Hades’ surprised look. Knowing her state of mind and being, Hades had been abundantly clear his arrival was about being with her without pressure or a hidden agenda. Persephone adored him even more for that. It was actually part of the freedom Persephone was so grateful for. As an equal, she got to make the first moves within her timing and comfort zone. 

Dipping her face to his lips, she tried to immerse Hades in the depth of her soul and body as she guided his eager glory within her. Persephone opened the magic of her heart and soul, wordlessly communing as she offered every atom of her being to the King of the Underworld. Hades responded with ardent kisses, his hands worshipful as they passed over every inch of her skin.  

They made love to each other that night, slowly and carefully. It was not the night for carnal lust. Instead, it was the intertwining of two souls that had waded through the chaos of life to finally find each other in the magic of starlight. Together, the scars of their battered hearts healed just a little more in their shared bond. 

Their time together was measured; Hades’ presence was required in the Underworld, and Persephone’s domain beckoned her attention and devotion. Until the last possible moment, they clung to each other in the afterglow, relishing the solace and reassurance they found so effortlessly with one another. The Fates had done a wondrous thing, bringing them together.

Eventually, with a parting kiss, Persephone watched as Hades strode from her abode with a sullen heart. Hades was meant to be in her bed, arms wrapped around her at 3 A.M., and the first thing her sleepy eyes beheld at the rising dawn. Fastening the door behind her, Persephone shook her head in supreme bewilderment. In the short span of 115 days since their first date, Hades had become an integral part of her life. Letting him go was like releasing a part of her soul, hoping it would return to make her whole once more. 

“Just wait,” whispered the watching Moon Goddess conspiratorially, “and see what unfolds for you in the next 100 days!”

Persephone’s heart skipped a beat. 

Until next time, XO. Elsie