Hera's Embrace

As winter leaves the earth, she melted through nests of roots, rocks, earth, fire.

As summer's heavy breath, she was burned, boiled, absorbed, exhaled.

As with autumn's arrival, all of her was reaped, all of her was free.

Renewed, but not wholly formed, she floated up the long road towards heaven. She was free of mortal time. A season was as a day, a day as long as season. She drifted as clouds slowly gathering mass for the storm.

All that she was, no longer interesting. Her wretched husband, who gave to her two tender minutes, for a lifetime of suffering; the great pain and small joys vanishing as if belonging to someone else.

When the coalescence was complete Oenone stood in view of Olympus. Fantastic gates of rarest metals and gems dominated her view, larger than mountains, wrapping the peak shrouded in cloud; as she approached, those gates swung out to welcome her.

As Oenone entered, a womanly figure appeared. Terrible and beautiful, her arms outstretched, to greet the former nymph, now made godly. As Hera's strong arms cradled Oenone and Oenone embraced the Queen in turn.

"Welcome home, my dear." Hera's voice proclaimed sweetly, deceptively.

Oenone's heart glowed for the welcome; yet she knew, this place of light would never comfort her.

Her memories had left their tint on her heart; her home would belong to darkness.

A dream of Persephone

Demeter's child lost to the catacombs of darkness, arises to find the world a green place. The humming of life new-borne, new-found, startles her awake.

One woman cannot wait to leave the misery that is spring. She the true consort and love of the most feared of Olympians. Her name is Oenone and death has transformed her.

Born a nymph, the spirit of wine, she lived a woman scorned by her husband for fair but vapid Helen, her death a sacrifice to her own remorse.

In the flames of the pyre, fueled by her dead husband's corpse, she prayed for forgiveness; she could have saved the man who burned beneath her. Her spite, for his wrongs, she could not forgive for herself.

Hera, mother, lover, spurned woman, heard Oenone's final prayer.

-- That bitch Aphrodite, she really caused a shit storm in the world, for her own vanity, Hera mused. I can mend one heart and get revenge upon that selfish brat.

And as the plot took shape in her breast, she snatched Oenone from the brink of Thanatos's grasp, restoring her and elevating her to the halls of Olympus.

She would live, immortal.