apples

Avalon Rising

Sharon Smith


The Trees said, “Avalon will rise again.”
A spark flashed in my soul.
Small flecks of heat.
A warmth spread out within me,
The embers fanned by the morning breeze

Rustling through the canopy overhead
Until the fire roared.
Excitement?

Uncertainty?
Whatever could it mean?

“Avalon will rise again.”

The very idea,
A Magickal whack upside my head.
Avalon, isle of Morgan,
Witch-Woman paradise,
Land of the Mythical and Mystical.

“Avalon will rise again.”

The spiritual center of the Old Religion,
The place where this world and the Otherworld meet.
Isle of Apples.
Red, juicy fruit associated with
A Woman’s “sin”…
Why have I been so damned hungry for apples lately?

The Old Religion calls.
The Goddess in Her many forms sings Her song as
Morgan…Aeronwen…Rhiannon…Modron…
Blodewedd…Cerridwenn…Arianrhod…
Her Daughters, near and far, hear the Call to Avalon
And dance for joy.


“Avalon will rise again.”

SHE is rising.
We are rising with Her.
Re-imagining…Reclaiming
The Fertile Isle where apples always hang from the boughs,

Ready to be eaten…savored…
Let the sweet juice run down your chin.
There is no “Woman’s sin”…

Avalon is rising again…
The Womb Isle of the Great Mother.
Place of Birth, Life, Fecundity…
Place of a Woman’s Magick.

The Trees told me, “Avalon will rise again.”
I believe them.
They know things we have long forgotten.
So I will wait.
And look.
And listen…
How will I know when it happens?

Somewhere, there is the sound of an Apple falling…
Can you hear it?
It hits the ground and Magick springs up.
A Snake slithers ‘round it…
Stops to flick its tongue at the red skin.
The bones of The Grandmothers rattle in the Earth…

Avalon is here…


Sharon Smith is a writer and editor for Girl God Books. She has a passion for helping women discover their authentic Voices and Selves through meeting the Goddess in Her many forms. With a deep connection to Nature, she identifies as a Green and Forest Witch and walks an eclectic path that is a blending of Native American and Celtic spirituality, both in her near and deep ancestral lines.

Similar Posts

  • Returning Home

    By Andrea Lewis (Part 3 of a 3-part series; see Part 1 and Part 2) The inner peace that followed me for the remainder of my time in England, soon dissolved when I returned to Canada. I temporarily lived out of a suitcase between my mother’s and boyfriend’s home and I felt out of place,…

  • Cauldron of Cerridwen

    Cauldron of Cerridwen by Jennifer R. Miller I am at ease in your velvety darkness that covers and heals me in places the light cannot reach, because I am much too weary now for all that blinding brightness. Under the supple, lustrous rays of the moon, I stare into the swirling black void of the…

  • Panther Run

    Mary Petiet The dreamscape panther runs, lunging agile, undeniable tearing at my eyes, my throat, my heart a young man moves to spear her, but I gesture him away I am merging with the panther as she rips apart my senses I am dying to the old as I am born into the new I…

  • The Water Remembers

    by Rev. Rachael Wright I walk in sands Far from the land of my birth Far from the shores of the Holy Isle The fog rolls in and enrobes me “Welcome back,” it whispers For the Water Remembers These misty droplets, once part of the oceans, the rains that nourished the first trees and mosses….

  • Owl of Cwm Cawlwyd

    Fin (the Owl of Cwm Cawlwyd) by Jenny Bates It’s raining, and my dreams of an evening meal feel like a wet discarded rag. It’s a blanket of a day. Wisely, I wrap my disappointment around me and dream of fish; whose fins carry them through water like my wings through air. It’s ironic being…

  • Cauldron of Change

    Cauldron of Change by TB Kelley Nature is changing the wheel it turns dead to life it always returns Learning to dance on the sands of time watching your life as it passes you by Remembering of how it used to be thinking of what will come to thee Watching and waiting for the end…