“Dawn at Bridget’s Well” by Patricia Monaghan

“Dawn at Bridget’s Well” by Patricia Monaghan

 

In hope, in pain, in song we passed the night.

We have kept watch – kept faith – each in our way.

Our long dark vigil ends in spring’s mild light.

 

We ended winter with this ancient rite.

Strangers until we joined our hands to pray.

In hope, in pain, in song we passed the night.

 

Beside the guttering candles, a single white

Snowdrop nods to greet St. Bridget’s Day.

A long dark vigil ends in spring’s mild light.

 

So much is wrong, across the world: we fight

Each other, blight the land, betray

Our hopes. In plaintive song we passed the night.

 

Yet we believe and pray, acolytes

In service to a change too long delayed.

Our long dark vigil ends in spring’s mild light.

 

And we rise, renewed. Such ritual ignites

The fire in our souls. It’s a new day.

In hope, in pain, in song we passed the night.

The long dark vigil ends in spring’s mild light.

 

 

 

First published in Brigit: Sun of Womanhood, ed. Patricia Monaghan and Michael McDermott (2013). Permission by Michael McDermott.

“Well Offering” by Mael Brigde

Well Offering

 

deep

deep and black the shaft of your great well

sinks through yielding earth to touch

the sidhe

 

bronze

bronze and fine the offerings to

goddess Brig

forged and split and given to your world

 

below

below the shifting winds

and rain-wet fog

below the bawling calf

and peeling yew

 

far below

a goddess hears and listens

we cast our bounty

deep into your well

 

 

 Image: "St. Brigid's Well, Armagh." Vintage Irish postcard.

This poem is mentioned in a post on my general interest Brigit blog, Brigit's Sparkling Flame here: Reading to Brigit.

“Millstone” by Mael Brigde

 

Millstone

 

it is alleged

—can it be true? —

that your millstone

would not grind

a druid’s grain

 

this I can’t accept

this stone

guided by your grace

hurtling unsmashed

clear down the mountain

 

why would such a lavish gift

from such a giving saint

grow stingy at the druid’s faith?

 

you were kindly raised

by one of the elder cloth

kin and friends were pagan

you yourself bore

a goddess name

 

no

 

I think these are the words

of those who said

The Jews killed Jesus

when Jesus was himself

a loyal Jew

 

grind the druid’s corn

fair millstone

be what you were hewn to be

 

don’t take the blame

for cruel cowards’ acts

Image: "A millstone to heavy to lift?" by Ashley Dace.  CC BY-SA 2.0

“Bride the Aid-Woman” from Carmina Gadelica

Prayer for aid in giving birth, to Bride as midwife:

                                                pg. 176 

BRIDE BAN-CHOBHAIR [71]       

THAINIG thugam cobhair,

Moire gheal is Bride;

Mar a rug Anna Moire,

Mar a rug Moire Criosda,

Mar a rug Eile Eoin Baistidh

Gun mhar-bhith dha dhi,

Cuidich thusa mise ’m asaid,

     Cuidich mi a Bhride!

Mar a gheineadh Criosd am Moire

Comhliont air gach laimh,

Cobhair thusa mise, mhoime,

An gein a thoir bho ’n chnaimh;

’S mar a chomhn thu Oigh an t-solais,

Gun or, gun odh, gun ni,

Comhn orm-sa, ’s mor m’ othrais,

     Comhn orm a Bhride!

pg. 177

BRIDE THE AID-WOMAN 

THERE came to me assistance,

Mary fair and Bride;

As Anna bore Mary,

As Mary bore Christ,

As Eile bore John the Baptist

Without flaw in him,

Aid thou me in mine unbearing,

     Aid me, O Bride!

As Christ was conceived of Mary

Full perfect on every hand,

Assist thou me, foster-mother,

The conception to bring from the bone;

And as thou didst aid the Virgin of joy,

Without gold, without corn, without kine,

Aid thou me, great is my sickness,

     Aid me, O Bride!

Carmina Gadelica, Volume 1, by Alexander Carmichael, [1900], at sacred-texts.com

Image:  'B&W nude pregnant woman,' by Laura Benvenuti. Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic

“Eolas An Deididh - Toothache Charm” from Carmina Gadelica

The following text is from the Carmina Gadelica:

Eolas An Deididh [126] Toothache Charm

The teeth of ancient human skeletons found in stone coffins and other enclosures, and without enclosures, are usually good and complete. This is in marked contrast to the teeth of modern human remains, which are generally much impaired if not wholly absent. But there must have been toothache and even artificial teeth in ancient times, as indicated by the mummies in Egypt and the toothache charms and toothache wells in the Highlands. One toothache charm and one toothache well must suffice to illustrate this. The toothache well is in the island of North Uist. It is situated 195 feet above the sea, at the foot of a hill 757 feet high, and nearly three miles in the moorland from the nearest townland. The place is called 'Cluidh-airidh,' shieling fold, while the well is variously known as 'Tobar Chuidh-airidh,' well of the shieling fold, 'Tobar an deididh,' well of the toothache, 'Tobar na cnoidh,' well of the worm, and 'Tobar cnuimh fhiacail,' well of the tooth worm, from a belief that toothache is caused by a worm in the tooth.

The general name of the well is 'Tobar Chuidh-airidh,' well of the shieling fold, to distinguish it from other healing wells throughout the Isles. The pilgrim suffering from toothache must not speak, nor eat, nor drink, after beginning the pilgrimage, till after three draughts of the well of Cuidh-airidh are drunk in name of God, and in name of Christ, and in name of Spirit.

Some persons profess to derive no relief, some profess to derive partial relief, and some profess to derive complete relief from toothache after drinking the water of the well of Cuidh-airidh.

TOOTHACHE CHARM

The incantation put by lovely Bride  

Before the thumb of the Mother of God,

On lint, on wort, on hemp.

For worm, for venom, for teeth.

The worm that tortured me.

In the teeth of my head,

Hell hard by my teeth,

The teeth of hell distressing me.

************************

The teeth of hell close to me;

As long as I myself shall last

May my teeth last in my head.

Variants—

On lint, on comb, on agony.

On sea, on ocean, on coast.

On water, on lakes, on marshes

[Incantation or prayer.]

Carmina Gadelica – Hymns and Incantations Vol. II, ed. Alexander Carmichael (1900), pg. 10-11.

Image: "A broken upper front tooth showing the pink of the pulp," by James Heilman, MD This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.

The Descent of Brighid (redacted by Erynn R. Laurie)

The Descent of Brighid

(redacted by Erynn R. Laurie)

Every day and every night

That I say the descent of Brighid,

Daughter of Daghda

Mother of the Three Gods,

Anamchara,

Guide in darkness,

Ever-flaming star,

I shall not be killed, I shall not be harried,

I shall not be put in cell, I shall not be wounded,

Neither shall She leave me in forgetfulness.

No fire, no sun, no moon shall burn me,

No lake, no water, nor sea shall drown me,

No arrow of fairy nor dart of spirit shall wound me,

And I under the mantle of Holy Brighid.

Brighid to enfold me

Brighid to surround me

Brighid to comfort me

Brighid is my light and everlasting life,

Body to body, form to form, breath to breath,

Throughout all time and eternity.

While doing this Erynn flicks water to the cardinal directions, the sky and the earth, and draws the ringed cross on her breast.

Original: from Carmina Gadelica, Alexander Carmichael.

Image: Brooks's Comet of 902 (i.). (Drawn by W. R. Brooks.) Public Domain.

“Conversation in Queen’s Park” by Mael Brigde

“Conversation in Queen’s Park”

when we first met I circled round you

taking note

this is how you differ from the

One True God I had been schooled to

this is how you fit into

the same garment that he wore

wary   I wondered at your gentleness

the marvel of your womanly profile

familiar saintly odour

new sharp fragrance of goddess strength

and nowhere a gavel forcing agreement

where none exists

you gave me room to breathe

I learned what I could of you

wove your images into me

dyed with you the patterns of my life

sunrise and sunfall

winter and spring

soon I came to you

with petitions and with prayers

please protect us

please stop the hurt

please give me strength

I found sisterhood in you

your daughters coming to my table

we prayed together and built our lives

then it came to me to give you thanks

for all that was   all that had been

and all that never came to be

to offer praise and gratitude

for everything

stranger

mother

sister

friend

our time together grew long

I sit now beside you

on an old park bench

this stone could be an altar

this park

a sacred grove

you are a weathered and timeless woman

your brown dog waddles elderly off its leash

I see you now and there is only silence

nothing to offer   ask   or say

like I am an ancient hazel tree

and you my silent wife

Image: "Woman and dog at Cedar Lake caretaker's cottage, 1915." This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license.

“Prayer to Brighid, the Peace Bride” by Jenne Micale

Prayer to Brighid, the Peace Bride

O Peace Bride, Beloved of Bres,

you gave your hand to heal warring kin

for what is home without peace? Mourning

mother, inventor of keening, you who

count the cost when families fight: Guide me

through my trials with a diplomat’s grace.

Peace-weaver, let me be the balm of

warring hearts. Let our passions be the hearth

of sanctuary, not the blaze of hate.

Let me strive always to speak with peace

and steady the hand before it reaches

for the blade. Let me be vulnerable

to our shared disappointments, our shames

and our histories, and from them always

weave peace from the broken threads of the world

Image: "Woman weaving in Peru" by Tydence Davis from Las Vegas. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license.

“Prayer for the Dead” by Mael Brigde (Song) Up on SoundCloud

I've added a song (at last) to my SoundCloud page. It is one I wrote when a loved one died, and I wished Brigit to see him safely on his journey.

It's “Prayer for the Dead” and it has been more sorrow and joy to sing it at more than one farewell. If it would be of service to you in yours, please feel free to learn it and change it as need be. Please follow this link to find it on SoundCloud.

“Prayer for the Dead”

dear Brigit

I lay my loved one down

a last time

he is three days dead

we have wailed and wept

we have sung and laughed

we have given thanks

we have cried out in anger

we have given thanks

bless my loved one on his journey

let his coracle be light and leaping

on the waves

salmon his companions

and the great whales

to guide him to his home

Image: This photo was taken 200 Mn Atlantic Ocean , between Congo and Angola by Joserodriguesneves and is shared under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license.

“The Power in Her Hearth” by Daniela Cassandra Simina

The Power in Her Hearth

I kept my eyes tightly shut

For as long as I could.

I was so afraid to open them wide;

I was afraid that too much beauty

would flood in, and crack my heart

breaking it into pieces;

because you see-

never in my life before

had I known such beauty existed.

That wasn’t the ordinary kind of beauty,

the sort of beauty that would use my eyes

as a most convenient door,

to make its way in.

That Beauty was radiance of fire

reflected by water,

sparkling brighter then any diamond

would ever spark.

And it made me wonder:

 How do I know it?

How do I dare to describe it

without even looking at it?

Because you see,

I kept my eyes tightly shut

For as long as I could,

Fear-ridden.

Twinned hearts make great bridges:

The vastness of waters vanished,

And so did the lapse in time.

A lock of hair blown away by the wind in Kildare,

the same wind that made

the oaks around Her hearth sing,

and Her flame dance.

My heart thus found its place into the land

where once Her hearth stood-

Yes, it was my heart for which the hair lock

had been a place holder only,

as She, the File and the Bandochtuir

instructed Anam Cara to do.

Without me knowing nor wanting

(nor daring to want shall I say)

In the middle of the night,

the light erupted,

and Beauty of the most special kind

made itself visible to my soul,

where it could be seen and felt

in its unadulterated splendor-

although my eyes were still shut tightly,

because I’m stubborn, you see…

She went ahead and forged my whole being

into the best of forms

(whatever “best” meant for me at the time)

and my form then swooshed like the fiery, swift arrow

just launched from Her bow.

Arrow was I, crafted and branded by Her.

Marked with Her mark so I won’t forget,

So I won’t ever dare to shut my eyes again,

So I shall never escape or let escape

Beauty and Power, the File and the Bandochtuir

in my own life,

Ever again.

Image: "With Closed Eyes" circa 1895 - 1905 by Odilon Redon. Public domain.

“My Best Horse” by Mael Brigde

My Best Horse

this is my best horse

bones hard

from limey Curragh soil

he will bear my chariot

with all our weight

and all our visions

he with his bold

black companions

across the tracks of Éire

west and east

should our journey keep us

late upon the road

and the púca rise dripping

from the marsh

though the rest may bolt

—and God be with them—

this hard-boned lad will lock

eyes with the gravest night-mare

win us passage

our prayers and his devotion

keep straight the chariot

onward to our goal

we and he

Image: "Ireland Horse And The Storm Clouds" by Thomas Haid Licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported

A Reply to "Bird of Three Realms" by Nghia Nguyen

A couple of days ago four friends of mine came visiting. We read poems to each other and drank them in. We laughed and talked and meditated and ate together. I read them my poem, "Bird of Three Realms," and the next day Nghia sent me her poetic response.

Ngồi đây lắng nghe                                     Seating here while listening

Thơ tả thiên nga                                         An insightful swan poem

Nối liền tam cõi                                          Links three realms

Thiên, địa nối thủy                                     Sky, Earth to Sea

Truyền thống Ái- nhĩ                                  Transmitted Irish traditions

Bạch mao xòe cánh                                    White spreading wings

Ôm tròn thế gian                                        Embrace  whole cosmos

Nỗi đau lê thê                                             Prolonged sufferance

Do Người lầm lỗi                                        Persisted human errors

Kỳ thị hiểu lầm                                           Prejudice, miscommunication

Cổ cao đài cát                                             Elegant long neck

Vút tận thiên thanh                                    Touching blue sky

Hàn gắng yêu thương                                  Healing with loving kindness

Nàng thiên nga đẹp                                     Oh beautiful swan

Âu Á giao lưu                                             Bridging East West

Lẻ  sống tương đồng                                   Sharing similar philosophies

Chan hòa sẻ chia                                        Harmony spreading                         

Nàng  bạch thiên nga                                  Gorgeous white swan

Tô điểm bức tranh                                      Highlighted old paintings

Thủy mặc sơn thủy                                     Dark Earth, clear Ocean

Nhà thơ đặt bút                                          The poet writes

Thời báo vận lai                                          The prophecy of future

Niềm tin Ái –nhĩ                                         Old Irish beliefs

Ngàn năm lưu truyền                                  Thousand-year cultural transmission

                                                                     by Nghia Nguyen

Image: "Swans on the Lake" (Vietnamese Hand Embroidered Painting). Uncredited