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



15 December 2016

“Who Tends Her Flame” by Mael Brigde

For the Daughters of the Flame, and all who tend Brigit's fire. Thanks to Gillian Daley for letting me use her image, and to the many Daughters who have entrusted me with your heartfelt communications over many years. My life is very different because of you.



Who Tends Her Flame

this one is old (so she tells us)
seldom ventures from her house
sees ice form on boughs
above the passing stream
marks the flight of owls
prays urgently for soldiers
for children
for the soul of a country
(she says) that damns itself

comes to her shift early
leaves late

this one dances in red
grinding lights
song flung across
a throbbing stage
guides her pen over
gaping pages
creamy coffee cold
in her forgotten cup
raises her eyes
to age-dimpled windows

tattoos the knots of Brigit
on her back

this one
toils in church offices
wrestles her child
through pain
addiction
dreams of mossy shrines
and rain-silk hills
she carries her mother
through stroke and cancer
trades stinging words
retreats into her yogic lair
to pray

jests when life tastes bitter
on her tongue

who tends her flame

women   children   men
who await the unexpected
who wish for more for self
for soul   for world
who linger a moment
longer than they must
who when rays of sunlight
strike slanting through shadow

see a bright eye watching
and fiery dancing feet





Image: Gillian's First Altar as a Daughter of the Flame - Gillian Daley (2003)
Poem: copyright Casey June Wolf (2011)
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