“To Brigid” by Mary Eileen Grace

 

To Brigid

 

 

Holy Brigid, Bride, you lead me home today,

Queen of Love, showing me my own true heart.

 

Fire ever lit, flowing milk that does not cease

to fil the hungry poor and give captives sure release.

 

Your compassion calls me out to do my part—

gather, listen, share, forgive and pray.

 

These seem so little, merely straw and coal

to stave off winter’s howling winds

 

and certain death. Yet still I know

myself called to take the plunge below

 

and enter your well of Wisdom, facing sins

of generations past to find your blessing:

 

Woman, be made whole.

 

 

 

 

Credits: This poem is a revision of one that appeared in Seasoning the Soul: Meditations for the Celtic Year (Pilgrim Spirit Communications), (2012, 2018), a collection of writings by members of “Brigid’s Circle.”  Mary Eileen Grace is a pen name of Eileen Loeher Knoff of Redmond, Washington.

Image: Ladybug in garden by Mael Brigde.

Three Poems by Cynth AB Salas

 

Surely as the day comes

Surely as the day comes,

As the sun rises again and again,

Sure as its light shines on the land,

Is the great light of your forge's fire,

Is the great heat of it,

That tames with your tools.

Is the great light of your wisdom

And illumination given to poets,

Is the great healing given to all who come to you.

Great Brigid watch over us.

 

  

Brigid of the Forge

Brigid of the Forge,

Forge tending Her flame,

Flame kept by for healing,

Healing given time and time again.

Again, Great Brigid calls out the birth of Spring,

Spring following your Imbloc, Brigid,

Your feast day, your sacred day,

Day rich with poetry upon the land,

Land that knows your story, Brigid.

Brigid of the Forge, 

Forge that brings work,

Work tend Her flame,

Flame that heals,

Flame that warms,

Flame that holds light despite the darkest hours.

 

 

 

Bless you, Brigid, who acts in great miracles

Bless you, Brigid, who acts in great miracles,

Miracles that move obstacles,

That give what is needed,

Her cloak stretched across the green of the land,

Land on which to build, to work, to grow.

Who in mercy closed the womb,

Who in mercy fed the hound,

Who in mercy healed the man with leprosy,

Bless you, Brigid, who in mercy brings peace.

 

Image: “Street Dog” by Slyronit, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons