Vigorous Dairy
Maid
you draw forth
milk
with such energy
vats froth over
a great pond
forms
to last for all
of time
cattle glance
over white shoulders
look in wonder
at what they have
produced
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
Vigorous Dairy
Maid
you draw forth
milk
with such energy
vats froth over
a great pond
forms
to last for all
of time
cattle glance
over white shoulders
look in wonder
at what they have
produced
Brighid
Weaving Her Mantle
I
think of Your famous mantle,
draped
around Your shoulders,
a
legend of Your kindness and cleverness.
Was
it given to You?
Perhaps,
but Your blessed mantle
feels
crafted by Your deft hands.
Even
with Your ability,
did
Your fingers fumble
while
arranging the warp?
Did
inexperience pass into expertise
as
You worked the yarn
over
and under, under and over?
Emerald,
sage, and grass green,
hues
of the land coming together, one day
spanning
the distance of the Curragh.
Once
removed from the loom,
did
You hang it on a sunbeam
to
admire Your handiwork?
Your
fair fingers idling
over
the delicate fringe
as
You prayed or sang.
I
ponder these images,
sacred
scenes resonating
as
I weave.
Image: "Irish Colleen with Green Plaid Shawl." (1890s) This image is available from the United States Library of Congress's Prints and Photographs division. Public domain, accessed via Wikimedia. Photo is retouched and colourised. She wears a flowered headscarf and a long white apron over a black dress. She is looking off to the side, hands on hips, her dark red bangs visible.
Note: First published in Oaken Roots Hermitage, 14 December 2021.
Brighid of the dandelion
You
are in the dandelion, the gold
of
the summer your bright eye, its edged lace
your
mantle winter white in the grass, each
sailing
on the wind to root in new ground.
After
frost they still reached out to bloom, burning
in
dim Samhaintide up until the snow
where
under that blank mantle they abide
until
the first fetching thaw. Roots reach deep
and
ensure their return, the same as thought,
as
a smoored flame slumbering in heaps of
snowy
ash until the wind of a word
stirs
it, a willing hand readies a twig
and
so brings back day’s flame, the saving heat.
You
cannot be eradicated, fire-eye
and
pale foot, the heat of thought melting the ice
Image: "Dandelion" by Jill Burrow from Pexels
Acknowledgement: By permission. This poem first appeared in Brigid's Light: Tending the Ancestral Flame of the Beloved Celtic Goddess, March 1, 2022 by Cairelle Crow and Laura Louella , editors.
A
Charm for a Person Living With an Illness or Pain
Fiery
Brighid, shaper of stars,
Bear your hammer down upon this one’s suffering.
Turn your breath, glowing with poetry, upon their body
Let flaring pain recede like the glow of metal in the forge
Let the softest of your healing words rend pain into ash and sparks
Which, scattered upon the night, glow and are no more.
Let strength reside where pain once lived.
Merciful
Brighid, soft-handed
Pour your healing out upon this one
Sweet to the mouth and cooling to the throat as well-water
Let cracks of pain ease and mend together, leaving suppleness
Bear them up with your smooth and soothing hands,
As the earth bears up the deepest of wells,
Hurt and wear and damage shall run through your fingers,
Leaving relief and resolve and peace floating about them.
Glorious
Brighid, woman of the sídhe
The barest glimpse of your beauty haunts the poet
Stirs fire into their blood, overflows their mouths with song
But now it will silence a riot of suffering, in both body and mind
The discord of pain will be brought to fit as rocks in a cairn,
Solid joy, rest, and gratitude that will last summers upon winters upon summers
again.
If
you accept this, let give you a roof in the rain, a line out of the turbulent
river’s current, a hearth to warm you, let it be a wave to drown your enemies.
If
you do not accept it, let it melt and only its beauty remain, as the pink and
gold of the dawn does into day.
Note: First posted on Tumblr.
Image: "Mother's Love" by Sandy Kumar on Unsplash.
From the original Facebook post (we launched via Zoom and Facebook Live simultaneously):
What She Speaks When I Tend Her Flame
Erin Aurelia
I transform, she says:
the raw meat into food
the raw thoughts into poetry
the raw materials into arts and crafts
the raw ore into weapons and tools
the raw plants into healing draughts
in your heart, distress to peace
in your mind, worry to reassurance
in your body, death into life, then life into growth
in your life, suffering into power
I transform, by the grace of the flame
She said, you too can embody transformation:
from chaos to order
from complacency to vigilance
from disease to healing
from loneliness to togetherness
from otherworlds to thisworld
from outside to in
from self to others
like a gift
gifting is gracing
gift yourself, gift another, and then another
receive in grace, give in grace,
become grace
and then, we
become the Flame,
her flame in this world
so shine on:
for her, for you, for all
BRIGID OF THE
FLAME
by Elaine Ní
Chiardha
Brigid of the
flame, oh holy, holy name
Brigid of the
holy well,
the source that
brings us home again
Brigid of the
hearth welcomes the stranger
Into her heart,
always with love
Brigid of the
forge, worker of alchemy
Turns lead into
gold and darkness to light
Brigid of the
healing well, mantle of care
Cast your love
over us with every prayer
Brigid of wisdom,
deep in your waters
Guide us on our
journey, each step further