“Brighid” by Kat Robb

Brighid

I light your flame for peace

I light your flame

I light your flame for healing

I light your flame

Brighid of three faces

I light your flame

Brighid of the forge

I light your flame

I light your flame for strength

I light your flame

I light your flame for knowledge

I light your flame

Brighid of the flame of nine tongues

I light your flame

Brighid, goddess of poets

I light your flame

I light your flame for growth

I light your flame

I light your flame in memory

I light your flame

Brighid, Goddess of midwives

I light your flame

Brighid, guardian of the passage into life

I light your flame

I light your flame for calmness

I light your flame

I light your flame for patience

I light your flame

Brighid, guide of lambs

I light your flame

Brighid, Goddess of Sunrise

I light your flame

I light your flame.

Kat Robb

Image: Candle light projected through a glass orb by W.carter [CC BY-SA]

“By the Moon’s Light” by Mael Brigde

By the Moon’s Light

by the moon’s light I travel

by the sun’s true gleam

by your hand I am lifted

from depth to height

Image: "Moon Over Woodland Drive" by Casey Wolf (2013).

“Bird of Three Realms” by Mael Brigde

Bird of Three Realms

Brigit’s swan

smooth-necked

glimmering thread

embroiders every realm

draws them nearer to each other

one to one

to one

wings whistling

strong-shouldered

she slips

from the cushioned sky

settles

on the silver-furrowed lake

with one swift push

she breasts

the unresisting glass

drifts   wings curled above her body

digs her beak in argent waters

plucks the floating cress

she hisses at the stranger

open-mouthed

shakes her coal-ridged forehead

sets her foot like blackthorn’s trunk

on damp and yielding earth

feeds along the threshold

of the realms

Brigit’s swan

her shape given the fleeing

gold-chained lovers

her feathers

on whom rain beads and

—harmless—

falls

are sewn together in

the poet’s journey cloak

give vision flight

bird of three realms

she sees

the trembling sky

feels

the shivering waters

hears

the earth grumbling

beneath her feet

Image: Mute swan (Cygnus olor) looking for food in waves, Windermere, England. By Michal  
            Klajban [CC BY-SA 4.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)]

"The Heavenly Banquet" by Anon

         The Heavenly Banquet

         I would like to have the men of Heaven

         In my own house

         With vats of good cheer

         Laid out before them.

         I would like to have the three Marys

         Their fame so great.

         I would like to have people

         From every corner of heaven.

         I would like them to be cheerful

         In their drinking.

         I would like to have Jesus, too,

         Here amongst them.

         I would like to have a great lake of beer

         For the King of Kings.

         I'd love to be watching the family of heaven

         Drinking it through all eternity.

Poem: Ascribed to Saint Brigit, but written much later than her life. From Brussels Bibliothèque Royale 5100(book written by Siodrach Ua Mael Conaire in 1533).

This version from Seán Ó Faoláin The Irish : A Character Study (1947). 

See http://maryjones.us/ctexts/brigitbanquet.html for the original.

Image: From The Dinner Party, by Judy Chicago (1979).

“Herb Healing Charm” by Mael Brigde

Herb Healing Charm

delight of eye

friend of cattle

magic lies within

I pluck you

—great thanks—

sing your charm into

my ailing form

comely herb

blessed of Brigit

Goddess of Healers

do your tender work

Note: “Herb Healing Charm” – This poem corresponds to Lus (Flame/Herb), a letter in the medieval Irish script called the ogam. The first two lines are translations of the word ogams “lí súla” and “carae cethrae” which are applied to this letter (Laurie, Ogam: Weaving Word Wisdom, pp. 63-64).

Image: “Herb Robert Geranium robertianum in County Fermanagh, Northern Ireland.” Photo by Joli - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0 

“Herb Robert was once widely used to treat a range of medical conditions. The leaves were crushed to make compresses for bruises and wounds. It was taken internally for diarrhoea, peptic ulcers and bleeding, and applied externally to treat inflamed gums and herpes. The plant has also been used as a natural insect repellent and to obtain a brown dye. Although rarely encountered in contemporary herbal medicine recent research suggests (H)erb Robert may lower blood sugar levels, making it a potentially useful treatment for diabetes.” Ireland's Wildlife.

"Brigit to the Grieving Mother" by Mael Brigde

Brigit to the Grieving Mother

my sister

you have tasted bitter herbs

she who you loved sleeps

dead upon your breast

as he who I loved

slept on mine

the whole world knows this torment

the whole world sorrows

with your woe

hold your daughter

till the knife’s edge blunts

bring her to me

her soft limp form

place gently in my hands

go to your people

rebuild your house

let the wounds upon you bleed

until they seal

I will hold her in her sleeping

I will take her to my hidden well

some day

this tiny soul

will live anew

Image: "Mother Weeping for Her Dead Child" by George Minne (1886).

"Red-Haired Boy" by Mael Brigde

Red-Haired Boy

that one

—hair the colour of dried blood—

latched his mouth

to your swollen breast

—that hair

that mouth

made from you

from his half-foreign father—

drank you into himself and grew

that child

every portion of him the promise

of a king

—his father the beautiful

his grandfather the Good God

his mother

goddess of word and craft—

how could he not fall prey

to those who twisted

turned him

how could he not wish

to please his father well

yet how

how could he come before

his mother’s people

before the smith who loved him

beg of him a splendid spear

seek to cut him down

when the spear refused the service

when the smith wrenched back his arm

hurled the weapon home

how could your son not fall

before him hundreds died

born again in the Well of Wholeness

that well now shattered

Ruadán remained

as he fell

lay screaming

on crimson ground

till

silence on the land

and you

how could you not upwell

as the divine river before you broke its banks

and all the horror and all the sorrow

of that awful scything

not emerge in ululation

the birth of keening

at the slaying of your son