Luckily all my witch friends are Hellenic polytheists, or: WE HAVE TWO LITERAL GODDESSES OF REBIRTH HERE, THEY'RE GONNA BE FINE
the thing about being a resurrection deity is that you’re liminal as fuck.
Autumn: the beckoning, the handoff, the descent. The dangerous and vibrant gift. The earth opens to secrets of ghost-sex and fire.
And the volcanic chasm closes back up like a breath as the world slowly dies.
Winter is like a long stretch of road with no Wi-Fi. It’s when your IPod dies the moment you get in line at the DMV. I’ve spent Januaries in London and it’s not a blue glitter Elsa winter, it’s a muddy grey-brown shitshow.
But the secret of winter: underground, the dead are dancing. They’re going Coachella in the asphodel, kinking out re Tartarus, whispering plans against each other’s lips.
And you don’t invoke a life-death-rebirth goddess unless you plan to follow through on the return.
Kore the Maiden, through her descent, becomes Dread Persephone the Iron Queen. The Greeks feared her just as much as they venerated her bae Hades.
See, Persephone isn’t all springtime and daffodils. “She is Karpophoros, who makes the flowers grow, just as she is Praxidike, the avenging goddess.”
She’s the goddess of necromancy, curses… and reincarnation.
And I’d leave it at that- if our Dread Queen wasn’t also friends-till-the-end with the None-More-Reborn.
Pop quiz, Fantheon. Who descended into the underworld? Who literally stripteased through the seven gates of death? Whose murder came with a huge side order of Jesus imagery?
Inanna isn’t scared of death because they know the way back.
So I’m not worried either. Spring might be a long time returning. But when it does, it’ll drop like Beyonce’s new album. It’ll explode like a flash mob.
And it won’t just be Persephone who saunters out of hell.