Bad Poetry


I wish I could say

The gray rain

Would go away

To the tom cats

Yowling under my feet

But I know it won’t.

I stomp once


I leave the crawl space



We surround ourselves

With strength and protection

Move like automatons through

The days, dusting

Lie down to sleep at dawn

Under the knowing weeping eyes.

When a Deity Calls to You

A few years ago, a witch told me that I shouldn’t use images of specific deities on my altar. This was when I was leaving Christianity for the last time. I’ve been studying witchcraft, mythology, and folklore since I was a young teen. Back then, my mom was definitely NOT cool with me having an altar, so I created “stealth altars” using Dollar Tree Virgin Mary figurines, Christmas angels, objects that corresponded to the four elements (I remember a ceramic swan that I wish I still had) and anything else that completed my altar. One birthday, my aunt gave me an incense burner and brass bell that I still have and a windchime made up of hundreds of tiny brass-tone bells that disappeared over the last three decades. It was odd, the selection of gifts, because my aunt was ostensibly a Christian. At the same time, it was like she knew.

Life happened and I moved back in with my mom at age 37. She’s now interested in my path. I had been through a long and agonizing time of searching for my path. I got angry at the Goddess (I did go the nonspecific Lady figure route because I had no choice and because I didn’t know much about pantheons beyond the Greek and Roman, although I was always fascinated by the Fair Folk) and went looking for something else. I found Buddhism and became attached to Kwan Yin. I still have two beautiful Kwan Yins and a gorgeous jade Mala. At the end of my marriage, I was so afraid that I reverted to the Virgin Mary and Mary Magdalene. I started wearing a Miraculous Medal or a Magdalene Medal. I got away and thanked the two Marys.

In 2015, I had been friends with the witch who told me not to buy anything portraying a specific deity for a few years. That wasn’t me. I have to admit that my first three years of school in Catholic school left me with a love for images of beautiful Marys and saints. But I also had started delving deep into Welsh and Irish pantheons. I was drawn to Rhiannon probably because of the song but after reading about Her, I saw correlations in our stories, and elements of Her that I wanted to develop in my life.

I was also powerfully drawn to The Morrigan. As with Rhiannon, I bought books about Her so that I could cut through the misconceptions and understand why She might summon me. I had never seen a crow or raven before I met The Morrigan. Now I see and hear them almost every day. Am I possibly just paying attention now? Certainly, that’s possible. Or maybe they were always there and I didn’t know to look for them.

Last year, 2018, I bought a book titled Naming the Goddess and found the name Nemetona. It was as if something was tickling the edges of my mind, that I knew this name. Coventina. Sulis. But this Goddess, Nemetona, was associated with trees and groves and sacred spaces and as I said in my last post, I believe She was the Goddess I encountered as a child at Catholic school. I bought a book just about Her. The more I read, the more I felt that She and I were meant to connect again. I even found a tree Goddess doll for myself for Christmas that year.

Treesa Thornwillow

I feel Nemetona pulling at me powerfully right now. It feels like Rhiannon and The Morrigan are standing back quietly and allowing me to re-meet this Goddess, and this time to understand Her. I understand about sacred space now, that my home, my bedroom are sacred space, that my space has been violated over and over for the last 15 years. Maybe She has come back to help me heal. Maybe She has much to teach the little girl from the convent garden. I pray it is both.

This is my grown-up Nemetona, but I thank Her for also coming to me in a form that a child could love.

Earth Elemental by Sheila Wolk


I know that Nemetona wants me to come out to Her. I just don’t know where because things have changed so much. It’s not the same staring at a bedroom altar. I have a sacred space on my property, but it’s not private. No kind nuns will come looking for me if I’m not at my desk. Maybe those nuns were more priestesses than they knew. Maybe their motherly and tolerant treatment of a shy and troubled child was a form of initiation. I have no doubt that at least some of them hoped I would stay at the school and take the vows. I might have, if my father hadn’t moved me to public school.

I have only gratitude for those holy women who only once chastised me, when I pulled a fistful of rubber animals out of my pocket during mass.

I have a vision of Nemetona in my mind. I also have a detailed picture of The Morrigan that came to me in a dream. Maybe art is the way to connect. Maybe a few swipes of green and brown or a detailed drawing of a woman in bloody clothes on a battlefield, wielding a spear, is the way to reach them.

My Secret Spell

This is kind of a second test post and also putting advice into action. I asked for opinions and suggestions about this blog and got really the best advice: Try it and see how it evolves.

I have another WordPress blog that was attached to my main Twitter, but I have to say although IT WAS EASIER TO SET UP, I don’t like it. I was all over the place with content . . . when I remembered to blog. My interests have expanded a great deal over the last two years. I’ve reached the point with my vampire series that I need a line editor. I’m working on a pagan story. I’m passionately interested in paganism, Druidism, and witchcraft. I’m personally interested in re-constructionist paganism and the Irish and Welsh pantheons. I’m also fascinated with Nemetona, a Goddess who left traces in Gaul and Britain, perhaps known to the Romans, whose name is not Her name, but a name for Goddesses of sacred groves and sacred spaces (including the home.)

I believe that Nemetona came to me when I was a very small child at Catholic school. I used to sit and read in a grove of small trees next to the convent. The grove sheltered a small stone grotto that held a plaster statue of Mary. I always felt a protective feminine presence in that place. As a child at Catholic school, I of course thought that it was Mary. But last year (just last year!) when I was searching for Celtic goddesses associated with trees and I read about Nemetona, I realized that wasn’t Mary. That was Nemetona. She came to me gently in a place that was sacred and safe to me, and She left the impression of Goddess in my mind. I have never since been able to acknowledge any religious tradition that did not elevate a Goddess to equal stature with a God. Hence, why I am pagan.

I’m trying to reconnect with Nemetona, but I realize that She’ll have to come back to me if She chooses. I just try to recreate that place as much as possible, protecting my trees, sitting on a fallen tree and trying just to be, but it’s so hard as an adult.

I went back to my old school when I moved back to North Carolina and found that it had been sold because the congregation had grown so much that the church required a larger building. It broke my heart because I knew that something sacred had been there and was gone. I did capture these photos before the business that bought the church took the grotto and the representation of the Goddess away.