Myth

by Aida Bode


I sent my daughter
to look for my youth
but she came back
with her head low,
and her hands
full with dejection.

The crows had eaten
all the crumbs
I had left behind

and the wind had covered
all my footsteps.

So I sent the leaves,
all the fallen ones
golden with Zeus’ lightning
and brown with
Dionysus’ withered vines

Childhood was there
born of Euridice
alive and well
in Hades’ dwelling.

Advertisements

One thought on “Myth

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s