ocean shoreline

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. Once part of the Mists that protected Avalon. Once the sweat of my brow- lifetimes ago, now inhaled and part of me once more.

I sink into the waters.
The brine embraces me.
The waves roar over me, “Welcome Home!”
The Water remembers.

I continue down the beach, through the fog and the mist. Chilled by the water. Warmed by the memory.

Looking out over the bay, another island, half shrouded by the low clouds, beckons, “Come Home.”

One day, some day, I’ll give into the urge. Walk into the Waters and emerge through the Mists at a Land beyond Time.

Until then, I’ll soar in my soul over Land, Sea, and Sky, and dive through the waves of memory and dream.

For the Water and I remember.


Rev. Rachael Wright’s path of service led her to becoming ordained so she could give couples the ceremony they wanted, in their own ways. She is a published author in “Circle Magazine” and the WICI journal “Weaving Traditions” (as well as one of its illustrators and editors). She has written and performed songs at Gaia Fest and the grand opening of “Coffee and a Spell”. Rachael loves being in wild places and near water. She joined the Sisterhood of Avalon in Spring 2021.


Photo Credit: Misty Island by Rev. Rachael Wright, June 25, 2023

Similar Posts

  • Rhiannon

    By Carole Weave-Lane Upon a moonbeam the Goddess Rhiannon Stood upon the wings of birdsong Enchanting the rocks in the mountain to part Liberating the wild herd Silver flanks and manes flyin’ Hooves that pounded with ghostly precision Silver on the wind   Wild  their eyes, tails broomstick stiff Frothing at the mouth, Galloping down…

  • 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…

  • 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…

  • Those of Us Who Weave

    By Jennifer Miller   If you would be a fiber artist, you must learn the art of unmaking as well as making, undoing and doing, unweaving as well as weaving. You will pull out stitches, and sometimes entire rows, but remember there is power in this, too— Power in knowing you can go back to…

  • 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…

Leave a Reply