Night of Sorrow
you chose your penance
in an icy pool
wept and prayed all night
God could not bear
such self-reproach
dried the waters
forced you into warmth
then perhaps
Darlughdacha came to you
held your grieving head
Brendan your confessor
gently heard
Conlaeth and the virgins
gathered round your bed
till light returned
and
as it pinked the Curragh
as it gilt the rising oaks
you spied wren and crow
fox and finch
wolf and cow and crane
bearing silent witness
to their love
See: Ó
Cathaín, Festival of Brigit,
pg. 25, for the story referred to here.
Image: By Miguel Mendez from Malahide, Ireland (Malahide at Dawn (version 1)) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons CROPPED. For the full image click here.
