Our days began with preparation for spring
Festivals, to goddess Flora, frost-melting
Sunlight, budding flowers, noble blessings
Of fertility granted by her extended hand.
Now that cruel, cold winter ended, we greet
Awakening sun upon dormant fields and
Distant snow-crested mountaintops.
In her honour, I am adorned with flowered
Wreaths, my finest chiton gown, as artists
And artisans await pristine northern light,
With paint, clay, and stone, my visage they
Desire to represent the goddess on her
Ascending day, my naked form adored for
Sultry nights of ancient fertility rites.
By these ceremonies, we perpetuate royal
Bloodlines, by wine and honeyed fruit, six
Days and nights, we are lost to maddened
Mirth, embers burning deep, we give our
Bodies to wonton lust, flowers taken for
Fertilizing. Entranced, we dance in veiled
Nudity, diaphanous sashes of swirling mist.
For such, I cast aside my regal lavender robe
And give myself to strong males elite for
Initiation, well-bred I shall be as hybrid flowers
Grafted and colors admixed, blessed offspring
To continue our ruling household clans, to
Goddess Flora, I make offerings of my seeded
Womb, my buoyant milking breasts.
My body anointed with scented oils and flower
Petals, to Flora I pray that her divinity touches
My growing child within, in these waxing mater-
Nal months as the tiny body grows ever pleasing
To your eyes. Like ages past, on this impassioned
Night I feel creation stirring deep within, Flora’s
Blesséd gift of love and life.
For I am Dionē, flowered Athenian woman,
Conceived by these rites of spring, tall and of
Bleeding age, my chalice given on appointed
Nights upon mind-lost floret fields, as with my
Mother and hers before, we worship Flora, her
Dominion over olive groves, wind-waving grain,
Trees of fruit, and my maternal blossoming.