• girl with paint on her face

    Wood by Ruth Humphreys

    Fear on the edge of creativity Love on the edge of danger A plaiting of ideas, fears, loves It is the same here Tell me what is your story? What is it you need to express? What is it you want to share with the world? I see you humans, you can not disguise it Keep creating, keep writing. It keeps you alive. Share poems stories throw paint at the walls. Feel the deliciousness taste the words, sharp, sour, sugar coated, bitter, gall We are alive in this moment. Go to the garden, smell the soil, rub it between your fingers Bring it inside, add water, place your hands in…

  • Salmon jumping in a river


    By Charlotte Hussey   I ride on the back of a salmon, listening to the swish of the overhanging branches. They rush by rustling overhead, to the slap of his tail against water. He slides, rippling between boulders and plunges us upriver. Choppy waves lap the limestone banks, their echoes filled with the susurrations of not-quite-human voices.   I ride on the back of a salmon, breathing in the raw mud smells, the rot of drowned logs and spent amber leaves, the watery scents of floating reeds and grasses, and the pitchy odor of a brush fire on the near bank. Out of its billowy smoke, a figure drifts towards…

  • woman sleeping on a bed of flowers

    Gwydion Makes Leu a Wife

     By Charlotte Hussey At dawn I drop armfuls of leafy plants, buds on slender stalks, frail, scented blossoms, hundreds upon hundreds— into a vat of river water.   I stir from edge to center, chaos to order, watch sunlight reflect off the pin-wheeling liquids, ridged with tiny waves, like crimped, opening petals.   Slowly the vat’s surface settles, gathering to it the colors of field, forest, and pleasure garden to seed some small, fleshy thing, not of father not of mother, in the cooling mash.   The full moon pours down into her creamy folds as into the cobwebbed veils of a mushroom. “Woman, woman I have summoned you here…

  • Tree at river embankment

    Rhiannon’s Throne

    By Charlotte Hussey It stands primly at the pond’s edge, fashioned from the salvaged boards of a damaged canoe. Its back rises up so high that any pair of sagging shoulders, any spine, if leaned against it, might straighten like those of some proud queen; stripped of all adornment, its seat waits empty, bluish with shadow.    Its wavy grains, opened by the seas, suggest stretch marks, or muscles pulled thin and apart in agony. Rocks, sands have scraped gashes, as did the bony claws that reached through the blackthorn hedge to steal the just born Pryderi from Rhiannon, asleep and bloodied on this her perilous throne.   Elegant reeds bend…

  • lioness

    A Lion

    Last night I dreamt of a lion By Ruth Humphreys Last night I dreamt of a lion. The moon was full, she met me by a childhood stream. I walked with her equals, calm, poised Inside screaming. This was a rite. A little faster, she caught up, her mouth open considering her prey. Her head on my chest, playing with my fingers, a gentle bite. I sensed others fear around me, willed them not to approach. I removed my hand and held my breath. Her heavy body on mine, resting. It was complete, she was mine and I was hers. Last night I dreamt of a lion. Ruth Humphreys is…

  • Image of full moon through trees

    Moon Blessings

    By Susan Morgaine I lay upon my bed Beneath the window, shade raised Bathed in the moonlight I am blessed   I hear her as She calls to me I slip silently from my bed and out the door   I feel the grass, cold and damp beneath my feet as I walk toward my sacred circle illuminated by her radiance   I close my eyes, lift my head, open them She is there in all of Her shining beauty   I feel my eyes glistening as I gaze upon Her, bringing Her into myself, Her light, Her energy.   I quietly return to bed Beneath the window, shadow raised…

  • Poetry

    Ode to a September Moon

    Ode to A September Moon By Brandi-Ann McAuliffe The Sky is dark, The Moon is full Goddess calls me To Her will. The Wheel turns as we Descend I watch the Moon of Purification Ascend. Chill in the air frosting Her Silver glow Still Her Magic She does bestow. Awen streams from Mother above Guiding our hands with Her Divine love. A stillness within, A calm in my heart Once again The Moon shares with me Her art. Brandi-Ann McAuliffe (Ursa Arcanna)  joined the Sisterhood of Avalon at Calan Gaeaf of 2016.  She lives in Montreal Quebec with her 10-year-old son and works in health care at the Children’s Hospital.

  • Poetry

    Descent – a poem

    DESCENT By Robin Corak The darkness is calling me again Mysteries creating a hazy veil I dive into an ebony sea And am plunged into midnight waves I gasp for breath And desperately struggle to ascend back to the safety of the surface Slowly, subtly, my fears turn to fins And I am swimming through the darkness like an undine Singing to my demons Calling them to attention and then soothing them to sleep Sifting through the shipwrecks of my past Excavating the wounds of my soul Salty tears merge with the saline sea The water gets darker and darker and yet My iridescent scales flash like lightning, offering brief…

  • Featured Articles,  Poetry

    Renewing Branwen

    RENEWING BRANWEN SPEAKING WITH BRANWEN’S VOICE by Susan Morgaine   I know how hard it can be to have the ones you love disagree and fight, to know there is not much you can do, and yet know you must try. Because I know that, above all, Peace and Love are worth the tears and the blood you put into it. I know the heartbreak of talking to one, and then the other, to have them meet, find common ground But, yet, I know there are times when it is in vain, and at the end……. I know what you are left with – the sadness, the broken heart, the…