“Brigid Prayer” by Erin Gahan Clark

 

Oh Brigid

Exalted One, Eternal Flame

Lady of the fire

Woman of the holy wells

Send your blessed water

This day and every day

To heal my wounded body

To soothe my aching heart

To cool the fires in my burning mind

Oh Brigid, Bride

Fiery Arrow, Radiant Flame

Woman of the holy wells

Lady of the fire 

Send your sacred fire

This night and every night

To burn away resistance

To kindle the flame of inspiration

To Illuminate the way

Oh Brigid, Brig

Exalted One, Quickening Flame

Lady of the fire

Woman of the holy wells

Cast your love around me

This moment and every moment

To grant me your protection

To fill my heart with joy

To bless my life, my thoughts, my words and my actions

This breath and every breath.

 

Image: Top photo of mounted icon of Saint Brigit by Sr. Aloysius McVeigh, R.S.M. It is on the wall just outside the door to a small personal sanctuary. Lower photo is of the icon itself. Please see this article on the icon at the Brigidine sisters of Australia website.

 

 

"A Prayer to Ignite the Three Cauldrons” by Laurel Ronan

 

A Prayer to Ignite the Three Cauldrons 

Brigid—Fiery Arrow, Foster Mother, Exalted One—I ask for the blessing of your Sacred Flame, the source to ignite my Three Cauldrons. 

Coire Goirath—Cauldron of Warming, Cauldron of the Forge, seed of creation, of the land and the spirits of place—may mine be lit with purpose. 

Coire Érmai—Cauldron of Motion, Cauldron of the Well, center of healing, of the waters and the ancestors—may mine be lit with heart-centeredness. 

Coire Sois—Cauldron of Knowledge, Cauldron of the Filí, fire of inspiration, of the heavens and the gods—may mine be lit with wisdom. 

I will greet this day in alignment with my purpose,

I will walk a path that is  heart-centered,

I will be open to the experiences that will grant me wisdom. 

With your Sacred Flame lighting my way, 

my heart, 

my head. 

Mar sin a bheidh. Go raibh míle maith agat, a Bhríde bhuaiteach. 

So it will be. Much thanks to you, victorious Brigid.

Image: “black steel pot on fire” Photo by Vadim Artyukhin on Unsplash. Edited in Photos by Mael Brigde.

"To Brighid of despair” by Jenne Micale

 

To Brighid of despair 

 

She is there for you, beloved, in the warmth

of fire, in the strong walls warding off the chill,

in the softness of bread against your lips.

It doesn’t matter if you believe, if

you can feel her hand against your back.

The candle drives back the shadow: belief

is not required, only wax and a spark.

You press palms against your eyes and look for signs

You press palms against your ears and listen

for a word and nothing trickles through the shell

that encases you, an accretion of grief.

You say there are no signs, there are no words

and nothing shining that can possibly

touch you, and those conversations you once

delighted in the false lake that appears

in the sand on parched days, that guiding hand

only the cruel illusion offered to

the lonely staggering in the desert

that only the senses can measure truth,

and the truth they measure only despair.

She knows this story, she remembers when

Ruadán lay crumpled at her feet, a spear

cast through, her head thrown back and a wailing

that cracked even the hardest stone. Eyes closed

and ears deafened to everything but the hole

gobbling the very dimensions of his

familiar shape, only a silence there

that swallowed every prayer. And so she knows

you can’t hear her now, feel her hand in your hair,

that your eyes cannot see the signs she sends:

yellow asters burning by the highway,

the dawn wind subtly humming your gold name.

So friend, don’t look for her there, not quite yet.

She is the fire and the furnace, the light

dancing in the bulb, the warmth of your flesh.

Start with light and heat: those others will come

for every swan must first peck through that shell

driven by the warmth of their mother’s long

sitting, every seed must first break

after weathering by winter and wind

until the light sparks that very first leaf

and once again you feel her rushing in

Image: "Despair 1" painting by Lette Valeska, 1954. Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.

"At the Holy Well” by Mael Brigde

At the Holy Well

Hill of Tara, 2 May 2023

at the holy well

I brushed my fingers

across soft

stinging hairs of nettle

in my eagerness to meet

cows who gathered there

this well shared on

either side of a wooden fence

blessing cattle

blessing us

what a rare   still

joyous moment

to reach inside the

stoney spring mouth

ferns blossoming from shadowed rock 

petals scattered on the pool

for Bealtaine

to cup the cool water

in my palm

to pour in yours

these few small drops

of divine compassion

to anoint myself

forehead   throat  belly

to move through hill and pathway

in this silent place

Image: Cattle drinking from a small stone trough above a stream. Second photo shows the holy well connected to this trough.