by Cynthia Liepmann
A Letter to Demeter (my mother)
I feel you
wanting me to return
to you.
Truth be told,
it is always winter
with you,
winter of my soul
cold, stark,
lifeless.
No feelings of my own.
Only your need,
your happiness
to attend to.
Truth be told,
It is empty and cold
in your world.
All that matters
is making life look
perfect
and hiding
your unhappiness
behind an empty smile.
You lie about
letting summer return
when I return.
Truth be told,
it is never summer
with you.
P.S.
Here with Hades
I am the One.
Nothing to do,
nothing to prove.
So simple to say
yes to his fruit.
Red juice drizzles
down my chin
And we laugh.