Writing Brigit


Writing Brigit

Many years ago I wrote my first Brigit prayer. Poem. Blessing... I have been writing them ever since, but seldom publish them. Some are carefully researched and crafted, some are simple and straight from the heart. (Belated update: I did eventually publish a book called A Brigit of Ireland Devotional - Sun Among Stars. It contains many of my Brigit poems and prayers, essays, and resources.)

The prayers and blessings of my sisters in the Daughters of the Flame and other Brigit-loving women and men, living and long-dead, fill me with surprise and delight, as well.

I would like to share some of these writings with you.

Following is the one that signs off each of my emails, a reminder to guide my words and intentions with care when I write to anyone. It's as good a place to start as any.


Flame Offering

In the name of the three Brigits

I light the candle of my heart

May I offer it to everyone

gentle and steady

warm and bright



30 January 2016

"By Brigit’s Day"






By Brigit’s Day

milk retreats to the cow’s horns
from Christmas to Imbolc—
with your return
the cow gives milk again

wild birds mate
jackdaw and grey crow
the hen’s egg   brooded
hatches safe and strong

nothing in water
or on the ground
is not thinking of propagation

the farmer knows it

if he has not written his name
on the land by Brigit’s day—

his work is late





Copyright Casey June Wolf (2013)
Source: The Festival of Brigit, Séamas Ó Catháin (1995)

11 January 2016

“Brigit”: a Poem by Susan Connolly


 Irish Foxes by Ken Billington 

Brigit

Susan Connolly

1.

Run, little fox,
past hermit cell
and derelict castle,
past river and monastery
and quaint rose cottage.
Through oak wooded
centuries
weaving your way—
run swiftly now
in the open air.

Brigit called a wild fox
out of the forest.
That fox was you!
You played for a while
and went safe
through the forest,
the king on his horse
after you.

Brigit hung her wet robe
to dry on a ray of sun.
If they touched
her shadow
the sick were healed.
'Every stranger is Christ,'
she said, and gave
to everyone.

People came to visit her.
A playful fox drew near.
She believed in mercy.
In the doorway of her
mother's house at sunrise
Brigit was born.
A fox howled
the day she died.

2.

Brigit—
we name our daughters
after you,
Brigit, Breege, Breda.
After our mothers, sisters
friends
we call our daughters
Bri'd, Bridie, Biddy.

Daylight will be cold
if your name fades
from our lips,
like a fire gone out
forever.

At the edge of Cuan wood
the fox goes,
no king of Leinster with him now,
though the same land
stretches away.

Brigit
bright stillness in the sky
while I live stormily
below

bright spark within

Brigit buadach
Beth ad heo. *


*Victorious Brigit,
The living one of life.





For more information about Susan Connolly,click here.