Demeter's Daughter

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>> Let's work with this.....

The Latin equivalent to Persephone, 'Proserpina' is likely from 'pro' and

'serp'.

It may mean 'crawling forward', or better still, ('pro' having the meaning

of 'pro' as in 'pro-duce') coming forth, crawling out, as a baby being born

forth from the womb. <<

This is a (quite old) song of mine, yet I think you will perhaps see

many of the themes you mentioned. Quite a rich vision/encounter. I

was in a dark space when I originally wrote this, feeling very lost

and trying to make the best of it, so to speak. When I sing it now, I

feel empowered. Isn't it interesting how a change of perspective

(and/or age) can make such a difference. It also speaks to me of the

way in which my songs seem to come through me. Often I don't realize

the most complete import of what I have written until much later

(many years sometimes). I think this is a way that my Self has chosen

to give me information that I need to hear over and over (writing and

singing a song is one sure way because I play all the new ones into

the ground...where the seed is planted...) Shanti ~ Linda

Demeter’s Daughter

Blood is thicker than water;

water may turn to wine.

I am Demeter’s daughter,

and this blood is mine,

this blood is mine.

I could be some kind of monster,

claw myself to sleep in the night.

Living an archetypal disaster,

and teething on knives,

teething on knives.

Oh, can’t your hear your daughter calling,

show me the way to go Home.

I’ve tried to fly, but I am falling,

and hell is just a metaphor for what I can’t own.

I’ve cooked my flesh on the fire;

I’ve burned my way through the night,

trapping myself with desire,

and feeding on lies,

feeding on lies.

Oh, can’t your hear your daughter calling,show me the way to go home.

I’ve tried to fly, but I am falling,

and hell is just a metaphor for what I can’t own.

And oh,

will you give me comfort?

Will you give me shelter

from the storm?

Will you give me something

I can believe in?

Will you drop some crumbs

so I can find my way Home?

Blood is the sea of my body,

this flesh, my boat upon the waves.

The light of the moon has brought me

close to the grave,

too close to the grave.

Oh, can’t your hear your daughter calling,show me the way to go home.

I’ve tried to fly, but I am falling,

and hell is just a metaphor for what I can’t own.

And oh,

will you give me comfort?

Will you give me shelter

from the storm?

Will you give me something

I can believe in?

Will you drop some crumbs

so I can find my way Home?

© Linda Talbott 1982