the persephone woman: an invocation

for the torchbearers, the keepers of shadow and bloom...

unfurl part I of my erotic retelling of persephone’s abduction here…

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i begin this month with an invocation as we commence our next descent and erotic unfolding… delving into the myth of persephone, eternally innocent queen of the underworld and goddess of spring.

i’ve decided it’s time to correct certain misconceptions about my own mythology—for it is not a tale of abduction, but of awakening…

but first, this is for all my powerful persephone women—the ones who’ve fought so hard to reclaim their light in the darkness.

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Kore.

Flower maiden.

Caged in her mother’s garden, kept in bud and never allowed to bloom.

The Persephone woman knows what it is to be told to be sweet and smiling.

Silenced. Unseen.

She knows what it is to carry pain that doesn’t belong to her—to hide the rot that others planted in her before she was old enough to understand what was being taken.

The Persephone woman feels the ache of staying small to survive. Feels the weight of being good when what she needed was to scream. Feels the fracture between who she is and who she was told to be.

The Persephone woman sees the false light for what it is. Sees through safety that suffocates. Sees the shadow not as punishment, but as portal.

For the descent did not ruin her. It revealed her.

In the dark, she met herself. The ache, the rage, the fractures, the wanting. The parts no one had ever taught her to love.

And she did not flinch.

She stayed. She dined with shadow. Seduced her own pain. Became the queen not through rescue, but through remembrance.

The Persephone woman knows the cost of silence. She knows the temptation of erasure. She knows the pull of vanishing instead of rising.

The Persephone woman feels what others refuse to touch.

Feels the ghosts of hands that should never have touched her. Feels the underworld in her womb and still chooses to bloom.

The Persephone woman sees what lives beneath the surface. Sees the truth in her own reflection.

Sees the crown hidden inside the wound.

She chose a darkness that was true over a light that was false.

The Persephone woman carries the ache of once being caged, and the knowing that no one can cage her again.

No longer hiding in the deadening illusion of safety, she walked willingly into the arms of a dangerous, dark god—one who crowned her in blood and obsidian smoke.

She no longer knelt in blind obedience, but in devotion to her own becoming.

She took the pomegranate from his hand and ripped it with her teeth, feral and devouring.

She emerged from the underworld crowned queen.

Soft enough to kneel. Sharp enough to bleed.

Then and only then was she bestowed the mantle of the goddess of spring.

For in the darkness, she had reclaimed her innocence—not the kind that wilts in the face of truth, but the kind that survives it.

She remembered that it was never lost. That it was never theirs to take. That it lived inside her still.

Untouched by violation, wild, eternal, and incorruptible.

She emerged from her descent, not as the girl she had been, but as the woman who knows there is no light without darkness.

Whose innocence is all the more sacred for what she had to walk through to remember it.

Now, she is both the wildflower and the flame.

She has become a guide through the darkness. A torchbearer of the mysteries.

The keeper of Eleusis in her bones.

If she lives in you… if you’ve ever known the underworld, and returned with blood on your hands and light in your mouth—you are not broken.

You are becoming.

☾

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i’m so grateful for your presence and attention. please don’t forget to subscribe so you don’t miss future underworld explorations.

everything i share here is born of years spent reclaiming my own pleasure and power—through grief, shame, devotion, and desire—the fruit of a decade of embodied study in tantra, bdsm, feminine embodiment, and sacred sexuality with some of the most well-respected teachers in the world.

when you subscribe, you’re not just supporting my work—you’re casting a spell for your own becoming.

if this invocation moved something in you, i’d love to hear about it in the comments below.

and if someone comes to mind… someone brave enough to enter the underworld with you or another persephone woman… please consider sharing this invocation with them. this work is sacred, and it grows by invitation.

xx persephone

p.s. in case you’re hungry to read more, here are two portals into the underworld realm of DD/lg and age play…