mountain’s stone doors
and pushed.
Lethe
The stone doors gave way to ice-blue walls.
As my eyes adjusted I realized I was inside
a mountain cave of bright blue quartz
that reflected the river’s light from below.
The river was far beneath where I stood,
the two sides connected by a bridge that went
all the way through the mountain,
far beyond my line of sight.
From the river rose tendrils of smoke
that looked just like the Asphodel mists,
but I knew better from Charon.
Those tendrils were not mists, but memories.
Lethe was where ghosts who were once
mortals were taken to forget everything,
and her waters were potent with pain,
grief, but also joy and happiness.
They say she did not differentiate between
mortals and Gods. That anyone who drank
from these waters lost their memories
now and forevermore.
The Drawbridge
did not look sturdy.
In fact it did not look safe at all.
But if Styx’s story was correct,
I knew I must follow it.
All the way to the cypress tree.
I could not turn back now.
