Free verse № 83379
To Avalon
Come, my Sisters,
Itâs not too late to seek our former world.
Push off, and rowing in order slice
The sounding channel; for our purpose holds
To navigate beyond the moon, and Mars
Of all the eastern stars, until we die.
It may be that the sea will draw us down;
It may be we shall sense the misty Isles,
And glimpse the great Tor that we once knew.
O Sisters,
I have heard the voices in the fog-
Ancient whispers, low within the veil
Season after season, they call beyond the pale;
âReturn againâ âReturn to life, return again to meâ
Forever have I known the haunting sound,
Forever beckoned beyond the mists.
But lost, between the worlds adrift.
Come, my Sisters,
To follow this song upon the wind.
Set forth, this barge draped in black
Oars muffled; in silence of a dream
To course the summer sea, and peace.
To be and never cease, eternal.
Come away from the Christian priests.
Come away from their God of death and doom;
Fools, narrowing lives to their own cruel compass.
O Fools!
Who named the Great Goddess Demon.
In lies, they preach of evil minions
Hear not; the echo of their bell
Summoning souls to hell, inside
False piety cannot deride, She is!
Be guided by the barge that carries us.
Be guided to the place but few will go.
And so, we make our Holy way.
O Great Mother!
We call to you and find you within ourselves.
Yet now, the tide of life has ebbed
The moon; waxes full for us too soon
With the rounding of the moon, and years
The path now clears, we return.
Let us sleep among the apple groves;
Let us drink from your sacred well.
Our spells, evoke the mists to part.
O Sisters!
The sun shines full over the misty shore.
Light glinting, far from the world of men
The stones, still standing have prevailed
Where soon weâll hail, and dip
The golden cup to sip, in Goddess!
At last we give our body up to spirit.
Al last weâll climb each well-worn step.
Home again in Avalon, all Priestess finally rest.
9 comments
i was definitely left wanting more, and not in a good way
still, very nicely worded
Iâm not sure Tennyson would approve. Although, I like to imagine he would at least commend the effort. Imitation is after all the highest form of flattery and in this case, brought inspiration to a word-weary poet. I like the changes you made to yours. Iâm sure Iâm nit picking but Iâm still not satisfied with <we be> it is better though. Iâm not familiar with the poem you mention. Iâll see if I can find it.
I think I'll let the swelling go down before giving it another go.
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