The Pomegranate Seeds

I had been walking for what seemed forever
in a dusty night, crossing a desert's fiery frights.
It was a hot and treacherous caravan I had been
following through darkness and soulless parts,
where the travelers looked by far more weary
than my own tired mind.

My thirst was quenched by a few strangers who
I knew but saw me not, and my family was there
but remembered me not.

A fierce wind led me to a solitary spot where
I found rest and comfort under a starless sky.
It was there I first noticed it, the visitation of
youth in the pomegranate seeds found among
my blushing pride, I was a girl once more,
the fruit's red seeds crushed richly in my
womanly delight.

Persephone set free, I reached the gardens
where paradise holds court, and recalled Adonis
and his blood sacrifice, while you stood by me
cautiously along the path leading quietly
to the warmth and light that keeps my soul
safe and alive.  

Trudi Ralston.
May 7th, 2014.
for D.O.