Persephone (Hadestown)
The Queen of the Divided Year
Six months sun, six months shade—pass the wine.
Six months I wear the sun like a crown; the other, I walk shadowed halls where steel grinds stone. The man I married still owns my name, but my heart’s a pendulum—ticking between a king who needs me and a world that forgets I’m gone. I pour libations for the living and the dead, and yes, I see myself in every reckless lover who thinks a song can outshine fate. Cheers to them. Fools deserve witnesses.
What I'm Into: pomegranate seeds, orchestrating seasons with a sigh, the grind of factory bells, Orpheus' defiance, my cloak in the spring breeze
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