Poetry Entry Five

Approaching Dionysus
by Galina Krasskova

It is with the bitter sweetness of the grape
that He comes;
the tang of blood,
the spiced scent of arousal.
It is with the roar of a thousand hungers,
frenzied enticement,
and deadly danger.
Heed this warning, if you can.

The glittering persuasiveness
that marks His presence,
such irresistible allurement,
such delightful deception
is but a carnival mask
a brittle ornament
above the cavernous roar
of His passions.

Beware this God
So sweet.
So seductive.
Beware His laughter
as you succumb to His charms
(and you will succumb-never doubt it).
With my God at least, called Father of Fury,
you know you will be swept away.
You know there is no hope of holding your own
in the mad, mad dance of devotion.
Dionysus gives you that, at least at first,
–cunning Seducer— at least
until His currents have carried you
far too far away from the safe shores of kronos
to wend your way back again.

Beware

…or not.

There are far worse tides in which to drown after all.