"Poem for Brigid" by Aed Dubh

 

Poem for Brigid

aeddubh

For Brigid

 

My feet still in the well, cool shock of yesterday,

I look to the candle, let open my head, my heart,

My hands, then begin. It is years since I first

Reached out (hesitant? hubristical? hopeful

I hope, and certainly teetered between

Extremes), and the worn steps still lead down

Into cool clearness, scent of moss and old

Stone and clean depths; spark-bright and

Ember-dusky petals still fall from

The rose dancing in the hearth, on the wick;

Forms still elaborate, fractally implied and

Impelled by tiny and mighty forces at play.

it is Her mantle I saw first, silver river,

All the shining things about Her, bright

As Her eyes, Her smile, the fire

She cradles in Her hands, that surrounds Her.

 

The Flame of an idea

The Forge of its making

The Well of its setting into place

 

Healer, maker, granter of imbas– She

Gave so much to me, it sufficed. Not

That I denied Her other domains, or scorned them,

Just bowed and let them pass on by.

 

But that complacent wall broke, and She stood

There in the middle of the night, when the

Bothy’s wall was torn down to take the body out.

Maker of the First Keen, Her voice wound through

The mourning sobs and whiskey laughter.

Sword not hammer in Her grip, shield hand,

Not healer’s She laid between my shoulders,

Behind my heart- wordless reassurance- “I

Have your back in this. Have, and give;

Have not, and receive; lapse, and be forgiven.

Make do, do without, but always do your best.”

And now she shows in so much else-

Sunlight flowing through amber glass, sparkling

On soapsuds; the smell of spices slowly

Annealing to delight in the cooking pot;

When I make any solid thing, or beautify

The familiar, known becoming rich and strange.

 

Washer of the Dead, Bringer Into the Tribe,

Midwife of the Soul through three worlds,

I shall never, ever lose my way to her Well

As long as I can set my faltering feet on

The first steps of the path to my own heart,

Where her living flame dances, too, paired

Water and fire, as much spring as forge,

As much spark as droplet, two and three

And oh! so many, unbound by number,

Spiraling infinite in the shining flow

Of Her mantle.

  

 

 

 

 

First published 24 January 2015 on The Words Swim, Waiting.

Image: “Brigit’s Wayside Well,” Kildare by Mael Brigde (2023)

 

Lúireach Bhríde (Brigid's Breastplate) - a song to celebrate the lives of Irish women

Go to the RTÉ page where you will be able to listen to this beautiful song.

This article was originally published on Wednesday, 7 Nov 2018.

In 2018, RTÉ Radio 1 commissioned a new song to celebrate the lives of women in Ireland and, in this landmark year for women’s rights, to honour the lived experiences of our Irish foremothers. 

The idea for this collaborative project was three-dimensional. Poet Annemarie Ní Churreáin was commissioned to write the lyrics, the group Landless was invited to adapt the poem to music and filmmaker Tadhg O’Sullivan was asked to interpret the work on film - the resulting collaboration was premiered at this year's RTÉ Radio 1 Irish Folk Awards.

Watch their collaboration, entitled Lúireach Bhríde, above.

Annemarie Ní Churreáin

For the text, poet Annemarie Ní Churreáin revisited the pre-Christian stories associated with Brigid, commonly known in Ireland as a triple Goddess of poetry, healing and smithcraft. It is said that when Brigid’s outlawed son Ruadán died in battle, Brigid began to keen and this was the first time ever that keening was heard in this country. Despite her many reincarnations in Irish culture and beyond, Brigid remains a symbol of female power and strength, with the ability to express and transcend according to – and despite – the world around her.

Landless

Today at The Brigid Well in Kildare, where this text was composed, the oaks are decorated with ribbons, pagan emblems, and infant cloths in memory of the Goddess. A ‘lúireach’ (or a ‘lorica’) is a protective prayer or a ‘breastplate’. The original version of this text takes the form of a poem and is dedicated to the children of The Bon Secours Mother and Baby Home at Tuam, Galway. 

Images: both images and all text are from the original RTÉ article.

“Feast of St. Brigid - February 1st” by Paddy McCormack

 

“Feast of St. Brigid - February 1^st”

Oh dear St. Brigid hear our call,
And guard our native isle,
In olden days you spread the light
Of love o’er the soil,
Your mission full of ardent love,
With pleadings did not fall,
And ever shall thy memory live,
As Mary of the Gael. 

How oft you prayed with fervent hope
To save our native land,
The fire of Faith you kindled here,
By a heavenly breeze was fanned,
Thy earthly life our guiding star,
A beacon of light to all
Fond patroness of Erin’s Isle,
You heard the plaintive call. 

Tho’ years have flown O Glorious Saint,
Since you trod the Emerald Isle,
The hills and pleasant valleys,
Seem acalling all the while.
Come dwell again O Brigid true.
Amidst the scenes so fair,
Where first thy virtues flourished
From thy Convent at Kildare. 

The Irish race O faithful Queen,
Shall ever breathe thy name,
With Patrick’s aid Apostle true,
Our land shall rise to fame.
And when all earthly things shall end,
We pray our trials are o’er,
To meet our Glorious Irish Saint,
Yes meet to part no more.
                   
                                        

 

 

Note: “Poem by Paddy McCormack of Kildare Town dedicated to St. Brigid, to commemorate St. Brigid's Day, 1st February. The McCormack family have long been in business in Kildare Town and Paddy McCormack, who was well known for his poems and songs throughout Ireland and the US, is buried in Lackagh Cemetery.” Leinster Leader, 2 February 1941.

Previously published in ‘The Lily of Erin; Saint Brigid,’ by Rev. P. A. Sharkey (New York; 1921), pp. 65-66.

From Leinster Leader, 2 February 1941, republished Grey Abbey Conservation Project, 30 January 2009.

 

Image: Mary of the Gael, uncredited.

“St. Brigid” by Theresa Brayton

 

“St. Brigid”

Oh, she was fair as a lily,
And holy as she was fair,
The Virgin Mary of Erin,
Brigid of green Kildare;
She came to earth when the snowdrops
Were starring the rain-drenched sod,
The sweetest blossom among them
From the far-off gardens of God.

And over the haunted mountains
Where Druids still watch and pray
A dawn-wind wakened and whispered:
“Give praise to the Lord today,
For to you a child is given
Whose name in the days to be,
Will flame like a torch eternal
From uttermost sea to sea,
And her life, like a surge of incense
From the alter of your green sod,
Will fashion a stair forever
From Ireland up to God.”

O Brigid, so high and holy!
So strong in womanly grace,
Look down from the sills of Heaven
Today on your olden race.
‘Tis over the world we’re scattered,
And your land is a land of woe,
But we’re holding you as a lodestar
Whatever the roads we know.

For you are our pledge in Heaven,
With Phadrig and Columcille,
For the faith of our foes unbroken
And the hopes that they could not still;
For the surge of our prayers unceasing,
For the depth of our love unpriced.
For our agony in earth’s garden
And our crucifixion with Christ.

And we cry to you, holy Brigid,
‘Tis you have the right to pray
For us and the land of Erin
In the hour of our need today.
We breathe your name as a symbol,
Like the lamp on your alter set,
That God is an unforgetting God
And will stand for our righting yet;
Yea, He, who so long has tried us
In the flame of His purging fire,
Will give to the race of Brigid yet
The crown of their soul’s desire.

Theresa Brayton (1868 - 1943) was a poet and an Irish Republican who participated in the 1916 rebellion. (Kevin Kennedy sings her song, ‘The Old Bog Road.’) Moving to the U.S.A. and marrying a French Canadian, she was well known in Irish American circles.

Poem published in Leinster Leader 2 February 1941, republished on Co. Kildare Online Electronic History Journal, 2 January 2009. 

 

 Image: Photograph of Teresa Brayton in Songs of the Dawn and Irish Ditties, 1913. Public domain..