Pomegranates

It started with the colour silver. Not the colour most would expect I’m sure, but there it is. It is my earliest memory: lying back on lush, sweet-smelling moss, and a rush of silver light startling the leaves above me. I am too new, too raw to move much but I can turn my head to the side and notice for the first time the world around me. It shimmers. The greens and browns of the world are dazzling as they unfold into a new reality above my head. As a new-born Goddess I am gifted with knowledge, and I am able to put words to objects and items around me as I stare at them for the first time below the glistening sky. Branches, leaves, wind; the nouns fizzing into the reality of my mind as I stare and catalogue each one. The clearing I am laying in is large, purple and white flowers spatter the ground with their strong stems swaying in the soft breeze. The invisible movement across my cheeks does not startle me, instead I feel a deep sense of calm as the sweet tang of the flowers drifts around me. Every branch within this quiet space bends and twists into others and I recognise the forming of a grove, a sanctuary in the midst of the wood beyond. Tiny, fluffy animals buzz through the flowers, intensely hovering between the stalks: bees. The name banking itself into my mind like a long-forgotten song. I learned the words for the objects around me with certainty and clarity: a Goddess always knows her domain. Behind the bees and the flowers, I can hear the call and response of the birds in the forest beyond the grove. Their chorus is clear, and whilst I can not see their individual selves their movements rustle the branches as they hop and whistle. It is as I am appreciating the birdsong that a new noise catches my attention.

“Welcome, young one.” Her voice is like honey: sweet, safe, and golden.

I turn my head once more, and in the space behind me I see her for the first time. She is reclining against the trunk of an old, wide tree. Her hips are tucked into the space between the exposed roots, looking to all the world as though she was the one who had just been birthed from the very earth itself. The silver splattering the lower regions of her gown is the only sign to this falsehood. Her hair a soft gold, like fresh wheat. The colour a stark contrast to the dark umber of her face and yet perfectly balanced with the matching golden eyes: ancient yet ageless. It was her eyes that captivated me, the dewy sparkle in them as her mouth creased upwards in a startling smile.

“Hello mother,” I replied, and with a strength both new and inherent I flung myself into her open arms.

Mother. Nestling my face into her rolling hair I soaked up the feeling of comfort and safety I felt in her embrace. She pulled herself back a little, as though startled by the physical affection of her new daughter. I continued holding her, my strong limbs wrapping themselves around her waist as comfortably as if her body were my own. I knew who she was. I understood, as inherently as I understood breathing, that she was the balance to my own existence. Where I was born to strive, she was stalwart. Where the raging of my emotions swelled along the boundaries of my chest, I knew that hers were contained and controlled in ancient practice of serenity. My mother was born to nurture the cycles of the earth, I was born to change them. I understood all of this to be true, and felt, in the warm safety of her arms, that she understood it too.

“Do you understand who you are, young one?”

“Yes Mother,” I replied. “I am your daughter, and I am a silver Goddess of the earth.”

“Silver Goddess?” She asked with confusion.

“Yes,” I pointed a single finger towards my eyes – I didn’t need a reflection to know they did not burn like her own golden globes, “silver.”

Already I understood in some part of my soul that there was significance to the different hues of our eyes and skin. She and I were of the same flesh, but that did not make us one. Where my mother shone in splendour I glowed, a reflection of her glorious divinity but not quite equal to it.

“Oh my little Kore,” she smiled as she declared my name, “you and I may be different but we both have very important roles in the divine circles of the world.”

Kore, I felt the name resound through my chest, a thrum of power rippling through me as she declared my name with a smile, the movement of her lips alleviating the seriousness of her face. A declaration from a divine is no mere thing, it is to carve a name into being, to forever attach a concept to a title. Kore, she had declared me, the maiden.

“Kore,” I whispered, voicing the name myself, tasting it on my tongue. Vocalising the new title I felt an impact, both powerful and invisible, enshrine my new name into the very cosmos of our existence.

Something deep within the back of my mind recoiled against the declaration. An uncomfortable sensation began in the depths of my chest, like drawing a fingernail over bark. Not painful, but not comfortable.

Maiden, I thought. That is what I am meant to be. Pure, delicate, innocent… I do not know if that is what I am.

Looking up into my mother’s face, I saw the surety in her gaze and decided to ignore the growing confusion I felt. I realised, as her unwavering eyes continued to stare at me with comfort and reassurance, that she did not possess the innate knowledge that I did. She believed me to be a silver Goddess of purity, patience and contentment, she did not know that the core of my being was something different. She did not know that I was a snake, not a turtledove. The shock was the first emotion that cascaded through me, I did not understand how she could possibly not know who I was, when I so clearly understood her.

I stared at her, about to ask her if she knew that the name she had given me did not match the reality of my soul. I opened my mouth to ask the questions I could feel building within my head like a panic but, when I saw the happiness in her eyes, found that I could not bring myself to ruin the goodness of the moment. If my mother believed me to be a maiden, then that was surely what I was. I took a deep breath, grounding myself in the feeling of the grass under my knees and pushed the growing panic downwards, feeding it to the clawing darkness in my chest and hoping it would be satiated.

I matched my features to her own serious demeanour to show that I was ready for a new interaction to begin. She chuckled softly and lowered us both so that we sat, knee to knee, on the soft moss beneath us. Her expression schooled into one of peace and calm as she began to tell me of the part I was to play in the world I had been born into.

“You see young one, the world around us is also a part of us both. My role is to make sure that the plants and flowers bloom. I am Demeter, Goddess of the Harvest, and I oversee the growth and fruition of the plants of this world. Without me and my efforts the mortals who live in this world would perish, and it is your job to help me.”

“Mortals?” I asked, something tingling the back of my mind like a memory lost, or more accurately not yet created, as I searched for an image to attach the term to.

“Mortals young one, they have forms like our own although weaker and smaller. They are like the animals in the grove – a part of the natural world that we must care for. They require the plants to survive, and we require their survival. So you see we benefit from taking care of them.”

Something in her phrasing made me curious. “We require their survival? In a way different to the bees or the deer?” I asked quietly.

For a moment the peaceful expression faltered, replaced by something colder and more wary. Within the time of a lightning strike it was gone, replaced again by the calm countenance of before.

“Well you see Zeus, King of the Gods, is particularly fond of the mortals – he made them to mirror our image and so he would be very upset if they were unable to eat and thrive off the land we grow. Zeus and I are called Olympians, extremely powerful Gods who take care of this world - ”

“Am I an Olympian?” I asked excitedly. I rather liked the phrase ‘extremely powerful’ and all that it implied.

“No Kore, you are not. You are a silver Goddess remember? Only the golden Gods are Olympians, young one.”

I tried to quell the rising disappointment I felt at her words and nodded to indicate that she should continue.

“Zeus is wise, Kore. Zeus is incredibly powerful, and most importantly Zeus is our King. If he decides that something is important, it is our role to help him protect it. Do you understand?”

I wasn’t sure I understood the full extent of what my mother was saying to me, but I did understand one thing clearly: the message was a warning, dressed in praise. The sharpness of her tone when she spoke of Zeus was new to me, as many things were, but I could feel the shift in the air, and I could name the worry in her face. She was wary of him, and I should be too.

“Yes,” I responded, still thinking over the words she had spoken, “I understand.”

“Good,” she shook her head and shoulders a little as though trying to detach some negative insect sitting there and replaced her small frown with a smile of genuine excitement, “then let’s get you using your gift!”

“My gift?” The confusion must have been clear on my face for she placed a hand over my own and explained.

“Every God and Goddess is born with a unique gift, one that helps, protects, or betters their domain. I am Demeter Goddess of growth and the fertility of the earth. I bring all that is good and natural into the world: including you of course,” she winked, including me in her joke. “As my daughter, Kore, your gift will be something similar, but your own.”

A panic, sharp and burning began to build in my chest. She wanted to test my worth, as a Goddess, as her daughter, and I had been upon the earth for barely minutes.

“But what if I wasn’t bestowed with a gift like yours? What if I’m not good enough?”

The rising tone of my voice pitched with the race of my heart as my hands began to tremble upon my lap. She wanted me to have a gift which grew and nurtured the world around us, something which would mirror her own gifts, but I knew it might be something very different. I couldn’t bear the thought of letting her down already, and I was afraid of the consequences to revealing the darkness I could feel within my chest. I stared up at my mother, considering whether I could ask for a delay to the testing of my deserved divinity.

“You will be fine young one. No daughter of mine would be born without a gift both beautiful and powerful. It is simple, truly. All you need to do is find that part of yourself which is your truest and allow it the freedom to roam the world around you.”

I started at her, waiting for something further. She stared back at me, patiently waiting for me to begin.

“I need to… find something in myself?” I vocalised her instructions, hoping for clarity.

“Exactly, Kore.”

“Should I… do something?” I asked, trying to quell the panic I could feel overflowing the dam of control in my chest.

“Kore, you are overcomplicating matters. Close your eyes and find… well… you.”

I closed my eyes and tried to focus on what Demeter had said – to find that most inner part of myself and will it into being. Easy. In reflection, perhaps I understand why it takes the mortals decades to develop and progress to their fullest potential. Certainly, in that moment I would have wished for the time to explore and grow and live before being expected to create something so extraordinary as… myself. I straightened the length of my back and tried to focus my mind as I searched for something beautiful, something delicate. Something good and worthy of the name she had given to me.

“Relax Kore, you’re a Goddess, you shouldn’t have to think so hard. Take a deep breath –“ She paused as I inhaled, “And let it go again. Good. Now all you need to do is listen. Focus on the wind, the trees, the sound of the animals and hold out your hand.”

I did as she instructed, and listened to the noises around me, I matched my breathing to the delicate rhythm of the wind and calmed the raging of my own heart. As the thundering quietened to a steady beat, I focused on the ground beneath me. I focused on the softness of the sun-warmed moss under my ankles and shins, I listened to the way the birdsong and the wind wound together in harmonious melody. The tickling sensation in the palm of my hand was of little concern as I smiled at the calming happiness spreading out from my chest.

“Kore, look.” The whisper of my mother coaxed my eyes open and although I knew there must be something in front of me on the ground, I couldn’t bring myself to look at it. Instead, I fixed my eyes on hers and allowed myself to be reassured by the pride and relief I saw there. Her relief became my own as I glanced to the ground and saw the first sign of my divinity.

The flower sat a few inches from my knees. Its thick green stem poked at odd angles with fragile, thin leaves protruding from it. Where the flowers around me had a clear circular base from which the petals fanned, this one was a sun. A ball of colour, petals dark red towards the sky and bright orange towards the earth. It was larger than the other flowers and clearly out of place on its own. As I grinned down at it I felt the name of the flower sink into my mind at the same moment as my mother spoke aloud:

“Chrysanthemum.” Demeter declared as though awarding me a medal. “Flower of life, and beauty.”

An insect of my own niggled at the back of my mind, something was wrong with the description she had announced. The flower, like me I knew, held a meaning darker than the one she had declared. I wanted to question her once more and ask again if she knew the names she professed to be untrue, but I pushed it down in celebration of the flower before me. “Chrysanthemum,” I whispered its name as though in veneration of its existence.

After a moment I pushed the ground out from under my feet and jumped up, suddenly filled with pride and wonder at my own power - I was a Goddess with the power to bring forth life. Everywhere I looked I could see plants swaying in the summer breeze, and I realised that I could feel them. Feel their life, their rejuvenation, their place within the rolling valley beyond me. Fuelled by a brightness radiating at the core of my chest, I ran. Hands down toward the earth, head high towards the heavens I ran and ran in loops around the graceful grove. In the wake of my footsteps the flowers sprang, oranges, reds and yellows burning like the sun, splashing the grove in waves of technicolour.

“Kore.” The soft call halted me in my avenue of creation. Breath beating in my lungs, my jubilant smile faltered at my mother’s sympathetic expression. She was stood in amongst the blossoming flowers, lifting an arm, beckoning me closer to her. I started towards her, making my way back across the grove, keeping my eyes fixed upon her small, soft smile.

Once within arms reach, she lowered her hand upon my shoulder, lowered herself so that our faces were aligned and spoke.

“We have to be careful Kore. Gifts like ours are powerful and dazzling yes, but they also come with a responsibility you must uphold. Look at what you have done here.”

I gazed around my mini-kingdom of bowing, golden servants and grinned at her with proud abandon.

“No Kore.” Her voice lowered and I recognised for the first time that whilst she wasn’t raising her voice, that there was something unhappy in her tone. “Look again young one.” Her own gaze swept over the grove and when she finally stopped upon a small purple petal, I understood the lesson she was trying to teach.

“The purple flowers.” I said in a small voice. They were wilting, or in some cases already their petals dressed the floor of the grove. “Why are they dying?”

“Because young one, two plants can not grow in the same space. There is always a balance to be maintained, always a choice to be made. Your chrysanthemums can not grow in the same space as the delicate crocus. Both need light and soil, both need air and access to water. So it is with all living things. You can have the flowers in balance, or a grove of either, but not both in one place. Not this chaos. Do you see now the importance of our role?”

I did. I was a Goddess of life, a Goddess of the earth and plants, but if I did not take my role seriously I could also be responsible for something much darker. The guilt was a burning river in my throat and chest, welling up inside me as I considered my blasé actions and how they had hurt the natural cycles of the plants around me.

Never again. In that moment as I looked out over the sea of chrysanthemums all I could focus on was the blood-red of their top petals. Never again would I act so carelessly with my power.

I will not forget. I will not falter. I will not fail. The mantra embedded itself quietly in the back of my mind - the first fatal reminder of my divinity.

“I want to keep them. As a reminder to myself - if that is okay mother?”

“Of course it is young one.” She held me in her outstretched arm and looked with me over the grove. “Your gift is indeed powerful and beautiful Kore, all I am asking is that you remember that it is also crucial to keeping the balance of the natural world. You don’t want to risk damaging that balance, do you?”

Though I was fresh-born I understood the implication of what my mother was saying. As a divine I had a duty, a position to uphold in the balance of nature and a guardianship to oversee for all the living things in the world around me. I battled with the feelings of shame and pride waging within my mind. I had been proud of the chrysanthemums, proud of their colourful splendour and their beauty in the grove around us. I saw now, however, the darker power which lurked under my skin. If I could not control my gifts, I risked bringing ruin to my mother’s realm. A frown grew on my face, and I felt my mother chuckle softly beside me.

“You need not look so concerned Kore. I will always be here to help you keep the balance. We are a pair you and I. A team.” She squeezed my shoulders a little tighter. “Come – there are those I wish you to meet.” Her arm dropped down my back and her warm hand found its way to mine as she led me across the grove and into the world beyond.

***

We walked a while, through the enveloping trees of the forest, and down towards a quiet river. The water sparkled and danced in the sunlight as it passed over the rocks and crags in its relentless path. Demeter stopped by the shoreline of a pool of water – the river raged over a waterfall above us, pooled into the space in front, and then resumed its journey to the right as it forged new paths through the treeline. Dropping my hand, she raised her own into the air calling into the seemingly empty space around us.

“Come friends, meet my daughter!” Then in a lower, conspiratorial voice whispered, “Go on Kore – say hello.”

I glanced around the empty pool, looked towards my mother with confusion and received only a reaffirming nod as she bought her hands back down towards her sides.

“He-Hello?” My voice trembled as I spoke to the rushing water.

A blink. All the time between non-existence and being, was a blink. Where there had been only the empty cycles of nature there now stood beings – like myself, but not like myself. Over a dozen in total they stood, perched, and leaned in the spaces around us. A variety of hues to their skin, but all notably decorated with the flora and fauna of the riverside. One had pink blossoms growing down her arms, another lily-pads drooping out of her locks, others had nettles or river weeds weaved into the knots in their hair.

“Hello, I’m Kore.” I took a few steps towards the closest: a petite, light-skinned being with cattails wrapped around her head. She smiled at me and bowed her head a little, but directed her gaze up towards my mother.

“They are called nymphs, Kore, and they can’t speak. But they are all girls, like you, and they will protect you.” The certainty in my mother’s voice would have been reassuring if it wasn’t also final.

“Is it important - that they are girls?” I asked slowly, assessing each of the nymphs in turn and acknowledging the truth in my mother’s words.

“Very.”

In the short time I had spent with my mother she had never been so concise, and so I knew not to push the questioning further. Instead I focused on a different question.

“They don’t speak?” I asked, my gaze settling on a slim, bony nymph a short distance away with nettles on her arms and tried to make eye contact. She was slower than the rest to meet my gaze, but when she did I saw no animosity – only friendship and perhaps a little concern.

“They can’t speak Kore. You see, our home – the land around this river and the grove we were in earlier – is a refuge of sorts. Nymphs are like us, they are immortal, strong, and beautiful. Sometimes strength and beauty isn’t enough to protect a being and when bad things happen I offer our home to them, to give them a place where they can be safe from – the bad things. Time and care can heal much, young one, but when a nymph is… hurt, she often loses her voice.”

“But mother, we are divine!” The outrage flew out of me at the insinuation that there was something in the wider world beyond, harming the lives of those around me. “Why can’t we go into the world and stop the bad things from happening?”

“Kore, calm yourself.” The chastise was sharp and reproachful. “This is not how a silver Goddess of the earth behaves. This fury is not yours to hold, young one.”

“Why can’t we speak to Zeus,” I continued, ignoring my mother’s criticism, “who you said is both powerful and wise, and have him stop the bad things from happening?”

A hesitation. In the seconds that went by I noticed an unnatural stillness from some of the nymphs where before there had been the subtle movement of natural breath. They had become like statues of nature, frozen perfectly in place, seemingly melting into the world around them. Some of them were staring at my mother, a mix of pity and fear showing on their beautiful faces.

“Kore, you are too young, too new. One day you will understand that it is not always our choice to fix the broken world – the best we can do is to protect the part of it which is ours.” She moved herself in front of me, blocking my view of the nymphs behind her and held my face in her hands. She lowered her voice so that only I could hear her over the rushing waters. “You are safe in our home, and so are they. We will let nothing bad happen to you here and if you do your duty, then nothing bad will happen at all. Understand.”

It was not a question this time, not a gentle guiding from my mother. This was a command from a golden Goddess, an Olympian, and I was not to disobey.

“Yes, Mother.” I nodded my head a little into her palm which she slowly removed from my face as though testing to see if my head would stay up on it’s own.

“Good. This is good, Kore. The nymphs will protect you and guide you in your duties but for now go – swim and explore our home. I will not be far away, and I will be able to keep an eye on you from here.” Her face had returned to it’s warm smile and as I turned towards the pooling water I determined not to question her judgement until I was older and wise enough to do so.

***

So my days started to take a shape and a form. In the early mornings I would wander and explore the sacred lands around me, unlocking and remembering the names for all the animals, plants and beings who lived within the care and protection of my mother. Although I was young, I was not born infantile as the mortals are. My strong limbs bounded me over rocks and crags from my first full day upon Gaia’s great plains. My mind was sharp, and curious to explore the depths and vastness of the world I could feel unfolding around me. Soon after daybreak a nymph would appear. Calm and collected, it never mattered how far I roamed, or how difficult the terrain - there she would appear. Carya, Craneus, Orea, Ptelea, Suke; more than I have space to name. Every dawn she would arrive, a sweet smile on her face and an extended hand to guide me towards the day’s lessons. I learnt much from the nymphs: how to skim across the lakes and rivers, how to merge with the trees and foliage, how to listen to the calls and cries of the animals in my kingdom. How to watch and observe - this was my greatest lesson. The nymphs, for all their beauty and wonder, could not speak to me, but that did not mean they could not converse. I learned that they communicated with their hands, signing to each other in often rapid conversation. From them I learned how to do this myself; like everything the nymphs taught me, I watched them demonstrate the skills I needed to learn and mimicked their actions until I was able to replicate them perfectly.

The one thing they could not teach me however, was my own power. The ability to make life anew was not something my new friends were able to do. For that I had to learn directly from my mother. So it was that I found myself every mid-day shadowing her through her daily duties. Demeter’s powers were wonderous. A Goddess of her strength and magnitude is something to be respectful of, and so it was that I would stare awe-struck as her golden eyes would blaze with the radiance of the sun, and the very earth around her would change. As though itself in supplication of her divinity the damp ground would offer up libations - fruits, vegetables, cereals of every type would shudder their way through the ground and nurture into their grown forms.

As a result, the grove and the sacred lands around us were always bustling with plentiful food. The animals in our kingdom never went hungry, and the nymphs - who did not need to eat to sustain themselves - could often be found enjoying the delicacies of the harvest around us.

“Look Kore,” Demeter once called to me, beckoning me away from Carya - my guardian for the day - and towards a mountain outcrop from which we could see the wonderous land below, “do you see them in the distance?”

I looked towards where she pointed and spied the them to whom she referred. Far in the distance, past the wooded border of our domain, beyond a winding river which edged out of the trees, there lay a settlement.

“A village,” I whispered, the word still fresh on my tongue.

“Yes Kore, a village. That is one of the innumerable places the mortals reside. Do you see how their homes smoke and sparkle?”

I did, I watched as the hues of orange danced in the distance. Something malicious and threatening settled in my chest as I watched the distant sparkle of flame. “Fire,” I replied. My voice low and heavy. “But what are they burning mother?”

The rumble of my tone caught her attention, her head turned away from the village and settled instead on my shallow breathing and stilled being. Though I did not turn to face her I became painfully aware of Carya in the space behind me and felt the anger growing as I tried to understand the cruelty my mother was showing me. A small crease of confusion briefly crossed over Demeter’s ageless face, replaced by the realisation and understanding of my concern.

“Not your friends,” she replied in a soothing tone. “The mortals burn only the trees within their realm, they know better than to cross the threshold into our home and hurt our animals, plants and friends. Not every tree is a nymph, Kore. You know this.” She paused as I processed the truth of her levelled words. “Therefore, not every tree has a spirit like a nymph, and the mortals do have spirits. This is why they burn the spiritless trees. They are vulnerable creatures who need our protection and guidance, they need the warmth of the burning tree to sustain them just like the animals in the woodland need their coats. So really, don’t think about the trees we grow as burning; think of them as sustaining.”

I nodded at my mother, assuring her I had understood her words and turned my face back towards the crisp chill of the mountain ledge as I looked towards the distant village.

I couldn’t help but wonder why we were required to sacrifice our land for the mortals. They were feeble beings, weak. Why then were we – divine Goddesses – required to give up our woods, our lands, for their temporary existence? It was the white-hot fury which was building in the back of my throat as I considered the disrespect being afforded to us which prompted me to challenge my mother’s words.

“If Zeus is so powerful, and if he made the mortals in our image, why must we sacrifice our home and our powers to protect them? Why can they not protect themselves?”

Silence. Only the howling of the wind deep in the valley below returned my question and in the seconds that stretched into millennia I sensed the trouble before I turned. The sight of Carya frozen behind my mother, panic and fear written across her face, stood out in sharp contrast to the still fury on Demeter’s own.

Her whispered reply, barely audible over the breeze around me, shook me to my core.

“Listen to me young one, and understand. Zeus is mighty and powerful. His decisions are final, and his judgement is not to be questioned. Only those who are foolish, or insane would dare to challenge the Lightning Bringer. In our world, our divine duties denote our place. Ours is a fortunate one of life, hope and power. The sacrificing of a few ounces of effort, or the allowance of a few acres of woodland, is not worth an eternity of torment or pain as punishment.”

“But Mother - “

“Do you see those fires, Kore? Do you know what happened when one of our own disobeyed Zeus and gave the mortals the power of fire?”

“No - “

“Of course you do not! You are reckless and foolish Kore, but I will tell you regardless. Zeus commanded that the mortals not be given the power of fire, that the flames be kept from them. He was concerned that they would not treat such a gift with respect and turn it into a weapon. When the Titan Prometheus disobeyed his command, the Lightning Bringer captured him, tied him to a rock with indestructible chains and sentenced him to an eternity of pain. Now, every day an eagle gores at him, feeding on his liver. Every dawn the liver grows back, and the wound heals, such is the nature of the divine. Then the eagle returns. This is what I am protecting you from. Pain Suffering. Ang -”

“But you said that Zeus made the mortals, so why - “

“Do not challenge me Kore!” Her voice raised above the wind, sharp and shrill. She moved suddenly towards me, golden eyes blazing with fury, and I felt a sharp sting, like a thorned vine whipping against my cheek. “It is not your place to challenge me! You will make the plants grow. You will rejoice in your power, and you will not forget that I bought you into this world.”

Leaving the threat unfinished she sighed and closed her eyes, allowing the lines in her immortal skin to soften and her breathing to return to it’s normal pace. When she opened them again the furious blaze had evened to it’s eternal golden glow and her words were softer as she spoke. Still, the sting of her anger remained.