I love pomegranates,
Seeds hidden inside a translucent ruby, chaos inside an orderly exterior.
Not-quite-a-sphere, with claws at the top.
I painted and painted them, admired them, read their mythology,their iconography,
but I had never eaten one.
I didnt want to become like persephone, hidden in the dark.
But just the other day, I put some in my mouth, drank the bloood and swallowed the seeds.
Afterwards, the sun still shone.
And i remembered long ago,
drinking pomegranate juice in Istanbul,
so perhaps the seeds restore memory.
3 comments:
Oooh, beautiful photo and lovely, evocative writing. I have never had the occassion to partake of a pomegranate. But they have an intriguing reputation. A bit dark and sexy - must be that underworld connection. They seem to inspire a lot of poetry. I imagine they are tart and sweet - like berries.
Oh that's lovely. My grandma has a pomegranate tree in her garden, and I remember eating them as a child. It was always something special. Did you know Randolph Stow has a poem where he talks about 'strange fruit'?
goodness me, no I did not kn ow that, but I am hastening away to look it up and read it!
oh, splendidness....
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