"Two Persephones" by Mariya Gusev

 

Two Persephones

I have a statue of Persephone that a friend had gifted me

She is a Black Madonna really, and sits in her little box

Cushioned by dried flowers, some of which might still be alive

Like the sedum that my friend had mailed me as padding for another gift

Which I planted in a pot, next to a tree of unknown origin which we think might be a plum

Leafing out each spring in a surprised fountain of hopeful green

But then folding each fall, still without knowing its own name.

My Persephone, placeless, as my altar already holds

A likeness of her from Pompeii, when she was encased in skin and walked in the fields gathering flowers, wild herbs, into the fold of her dress

The cornucopia horn, which was painted in after, balanced in the crook of her left arm

Her feet bare, not yet knowing ash

And how the flowers fold under its weight

And how if you speak into the void, it eventually answers.

~

Mariya Gusev co-edits Haiku Pause, a formal haiku newsletter on Substack. Her work has won awards and appears regularly in local and international publications, most recently in The Sciku Project, FemkuMag, Wales Haiku Journal, Asahi Haikuist Network, LEAF, Failed Haiku, and Tricycle:  The Buddhist Review. Her daily haiku practice serves as both witnessing and prayer.