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



24 December 2023

“A Ribbon for Brigid” by Hugh O'Donnell



A Ribbon for Brigid

from Time to Call Home

by Hugh O’Donnell

 

 

“It’s instinctive,” Teresa says. “You feel it in your blood. Earth stirs, shoots appear.” She’s talking about Brigit and the sense of her embodiment in the full bellied life fest of spring.

 

Goddess and national saint, girl and mother in a monastery garden, not meek and mild but shrewd and savvy. Seer and overseer, she gives protection to entrances and steppingstones, to poets and blacksmiths, animals and land.

 

She is neither to be contained in a monastery nor corralled by the state, this mystic of the natural world whom we celebrate in the ancient practice of weaving a sun-cross of rushes. By doing so, we are weaving together in her name all strands of wisdom from death-resurrection to the rhythm of seasons on our sun-shocked earth.

 

I call up Elizabeth for guidance. She describes how she celebrates the ritual for Brigid’s eve. At dusk, she leaves a length of ribbon outside so that as Brigid passes in the dewfall she will bless it. Afterwards, it will be cut into pieces and shared with neighbours who can apply the healing fabric to a body’s pain.

 

Imbolc, February 1, is the first day we invite her wise and wholesome presence into our lives. For those of us who have lived at a distance from the earth, it is still not too late to find our way home again in the company of Brigid as we take her hand and go play like children beneath the weeping birch where clumps of snowdrops shed their light.

 

24 November 2023

"Blessing Against Oppression and Submission” by Mael Brigde


Blessing Against Oppression and Submission

 

you who ran unconstrained

across the Curragh

stand between me and slavery

 

as you shattered the lies

of the shrewd

would-be rapist

would-be owner of his

intended thrall

freed his victim

now sovereign again

over

spirit   body   heart

 

bless me

protector of women and the bound

 

you knew your path

though yourself a slave

made them set you free

 

set me free

 

enquired of the mute child

what do you want?

though others cried   impossible!

did not stir until

she found and made her choice

 

let me know the truth

of my own thoughts

the liberty to follow them

where I must

 

bless       preserve

enlighten me

 

long against danger

give me aid

 

 

 

Image: Young, long-haired, black woman running in grass. Image is blurred. Photo by Nsey Benajah on Unsplash

22 October 2023

"drown me out" & "summoning" by cadence b.

 


drown me out

I do not feel alive

until it's already tomorrow

and I haven't slept in days

but even when the near-forgotten spectre

of drowsiness rears its head

still

I keep myself awake

because I don't want to hear myself feel

I drown out the sound of my thoughts

with as many decibels as I can muster

and I drown out the shaking of my hand

with the precision of the pencil and the brush

and I drown out the pound of my heart

with the rhythm of my footsteps

but I can't drown out the flame that's been lit in my core

the way it flickers

when I'm least prepared

I knew from the moment you rose from the steps

and I turned away so that I wouldn't have to face the light

I need you to drown me out

so that I stop trying to drown myself

 

 

summoning

beneath a dark moon

in the shadow of an eclipse

to which I spoke my true name

and heard it echoed back to me

I showed you my demons

and instead of running away

you cast a circle

to summon more

 

 

 

ImagePhoto of lunar eclipse by Paul Pastourmatzis on Unsplash.

Note: These poems were originally published in after / the / rift by cadence b. on Brigid’s Forge.

 

21 June 2023

“A Brigid's Girdle - for Adele” & “Brigid’s Girdle” by Séamus Heaney

A Brigid's Girdle - for Adele

 

Last time I wrote I wrote from a rustic table
Under magnolias in South Carolina
As blossoms fell on me, and a white gable
As clean-lined as the prow of a white liner

Bisected sunlight in the sunlit yard.
I was glad of the early heat and the first quiet
And a delicious, articulate

Flight of small plinkings from a dulcimer
Like feminine rhymes migrating to the north
Where you faced the music and the ache of summer
And earth's foreknowledge gathered in the earth.

Now it's St Brigid's Day and the first snowdrop
In County Wicklow, and this a Brigid's Girdle
I'm plaiting for you, an airy fairy hoop
(Like one of those old crinolines they'd trindle),

Twisted straw that's lifted in a circle
To handsel and to heal, a rite of spring
As strange and lightsome and traditional
As the motions you go through going through the thing.



Brigid’s Girdle

On St Brigid’s Day, the new Life could be entered
By going through her girdle of Straw rope:
the proper way for men was right leg first,
Then right arm and right shoulder,
Head then left
Shoulder, arm and leg,
Women drew it down
Over the body and stepped out of it
The open they came into by these moves
Stood opener, hoops came off the world,
They could feel the February air
Still soft above their heads and imagine
The limp rope fray and flare like wind-borne gleanings
Or an unhindered goldfinch over ploughland






Note: From the “Crossings” Collection by Séamus Heaney

Image: "looping rope on plain background" by Kier in Sight Archives. From Unsplash. CC2.0 Modified to black and white by Mael Brigde.




04 February 2023

“Imbolg” by Geraldine Moorkens Byrne

 


Imbolg

 

She is cloaked in moments

glittering gems of rescued time

on a gauze of twilight, in

the grand stretch of an evening

 

Her eyes bring light to the day

green as a new bud fighting

for life beneath hard cold soil

reaching to greet the silvered dawn

 

Her voice is the poetry of the wind

metred in short stanzas

the breath of new life and fresh air

as we call her into our homes

 

She perfumes the air with smoke

burning it clean from the winter's decay

It is a prayer to her, a blessing

curling itself into the corners.

 

O! Brìd. You are the one that we need

You are the dream that we cherished

in the dark and the lean

in the belly of the turning year

 

 

 

 

Copyright: Geraldine Moorkens Byrne 2023

Image: by Geraldine Moorkens Byrne on Flickr, February 8, 2009.

01 February 2023

“Blessing on Brigit's Eve” by Mael Brigde

 


Blessing on Brigit's Eve

 

May she bless you in everything you do

 

May you be peaceful, safe, well, and happy

May all of your losses and all of your gains

   be tempered by her healing hand

May she help you build your life and world

   with her smith's understanding

May she help you find the words

   and meanings of your life

   with her poet's heart





 



Image: a small beeswax candle, shaped as an open flower. Photo by Mael Brigde.