Proserpina

You unshackled me quick, in perfect synchronisation with summer’s end, dropped from the womb like a rock -immediate sink.

I was born with calculation, my body dispersed on metallic scales like butcher’s meat: pink baby breathing exact measures, inches of faith.

Phoenix-like, I grew from death’s air; end of harvest and witherings, I and darkness sprouted in sisterhood – festival of the Dead.

Mother, mother, from you I ruptured into this sad singularity of purpose that I became.

hopeless attempt of renewal by moon cycle, oh mother I will be your rock.

I am a paradox, a weighed contradiction that grew from stagnation, rise fall rise fall your chest in rhythmical nature of dying and returning; Mother you brought a miracle.

I am only a matter of time. 



^{*Poem taken from “Unbecoming: A book of poems”, written by me a few years ago.}