Lisa Hollifield

HUM - 256

Diane Stanbach

April 24, 2013

Hades and Persephone: Demeter Seeks Her Daughter

Time has become meaningless for me. Hours and days are less a blur and more an afterthought. I cannot remember when last I sipped the sweetest nectar or dined on the finest ambrosia, not that these Olympian rarities ever did bring me much joy, regardless of my station. My daughter and I, we have always taken our nourishment, of mind and body, from the plentiful Earth, this very mortal realm that has always reaped the benefits of my bounty. But, alas, I feel as though I am devoid of any remaining good will and benevolence that my notable lineage might have endowed me.

Nine days and nights have passed since my gentle, radiant Persephone was taken, seized most heinously against her will by Hades, lord of the Underworld and keeper of Tartarus' wretched souls, under the eye of her father, the almighty Zeus, himself. King of Gods and ruler of men. Even now, as I soar high above the world, casting my sight to the farthest reaches and the darkest corners, still she is lost to me. What bittersweet irony that I, Demeter, mother of the golden sword and goddess of the grain, who would bring such splendid harvest, and whose followers would supplicate themselves for the merest semblance of a gentle breeze, should be unable to work my will over this land that, that I had hoped, even the slightest way, would show me favor.

In truth, the burden of fault for this horrid design is mine alone to carry. Long had I known of Zeus' wish to betroth my daughter to a suitor of some divine standing amongst our lot, yet I steadfastly refused such a notion with utmost vehemence. Surely He found this continued reluctance to be increasingly aggravating, but I would sooner consign myself to the depths of hell itself than sacrifice my only daughter to a fate worse than death. Zeus would see fit to auction her as though she were the basest animal, without independent mind or thought and trap her in an unwilling, loveless marriage. Even as a goddess in our circle, she would be reduced to nothing more than a slave.

Still he came for her, Hades, the nightmarish fiend. Perhaps he would make her his queen, but no matter, for upon bestowing her with such a title, he would take in trade her immortal soul. I have searched relentlessly the mortal realm and torn apart the gilded halls of Mount Olympus, to no avail. Neither God nor mortal would speak, and before long, a resounding pain did grip my heart as I prepared to visit upon them all the force of my grief. But on the tenth day, Hekate of the Moon did come to me with sadness in her heart and bade me take audience with Helios, because under his watchful eye, truth of the matter was quite assured. And so, with utmost reverence and humility did I go to him, he who would hold the sun in his hands; he whom I had known as a babe in his father's arms and now as a God, seeking a balm to my suffering. I had hoped that lingering fondness would serve to move him towards the knowledge I sought, a merciful kindness on my heart. Fortune was cruel this day, however, as my suspicions were confirmed. Zeus had promised my daughter to Hades, her hand in marriage, as if she were a prized head of cattle. He seized her by brute force from our divine meadow and with his chariot, took her into his realm of darkness. He spoke of this lightly, and with little care, as though I should be grateful that my only child be joined to a lord of such high and fearsome quality. He believed me to have no reason to complain, as though I would ever accept a horror to befall my daughter. Perhaps it is not that we are goddesses, but that we are women, the lesser in their minds, that we have no choice but to allow their boot heels ion our backs, driving us to our knees before their supposed superiority? Queen Hera would die before allowing such an indignity upon herself, which explains quite obviously why her union with Zeus is filled with such venomous discord.

It is unfortunate for them that they underestimate my wrath. Broken heart. Shattered soul. My grief will devastate this land with a resounding wail as icy tears rain down to crack the flesh of the earth and the winds batter them into submission. The cold will seep into their bones and chill them to their deaths as I watch the land become dry and brittle and they weep the tears of my pain.