I'm trying to pace myself with the Greek books, though, and I think doing so has helped me enjoy them all the more. I feel myself in danger of spiraling into an all-out obsession as I did during my Tudor period of 2008-2018. The more Greek Mythology re-tellings I read, the more into them I become. But it was never Demeter's story to tell at all.
It is not the song sung for Demeter by her nymphs as her tears make the seasons turn. This is not the story passed down from Demeter's priests and priestesses. It started, as many stories do, with a boy and a girl in a meadow. Kore does not belong in the shadows, and she is not the Goddess of Flowers, spring or otherwise. It was there she found her destiny, one that would shake the world from the top of Olympus to the depths of Hades.
Too useless to sprout the grain with the nymphs, she followed her mother, Demeter, through the fields and made the flowers bloom, and she wasn't even too good at that. But what she liked best was when she was allowed to wander the woodlands and towns of the mortal world alone. Kore lingered at the edge of the feast hall, watching the great gods and goddesses revel. The least of his sons and daughters, hers was not the moon, or love, or battle…so low that she should have more rightly been numbered among his demigod children. The daughter of King Zeus of Olympus lived a small life.
0 kommentar(er)
