"Possibility" by Mael Brigde

  

Possibility

much that seems impossible

unfolds with ease for Brigit

five cured cuts of meat

she feeds to a starving stray

yet the five remain

for the chieftain and his guests

on a smoke-black wall

a harp hangs heavy with dust

springs to life in novice hands

at her request

dead wood of an altar greens

thin shoots press forth

new leaves uncurl

with the chance brush of her palm

there is much I extend no hand to

knowing I would fail

but she is here

I reach out with nervous finger

place weight on doubting feet

copyright Casey June Wolf 29 June 2011

Image: "Homeless Dog Walks the Streets" Rennett Stowe CC BY 2.0 (httpcreativecommons.orglicensesby2.0)

“My Life as a Bird” by Mael Brigde

My Life as a Bird

when at end of life

my spirit is freed and takes wing

I will fly to you

a small wren   a dunnock perhaps

dun brown and barely seen in life

dun brown and barely seen in death

joyful   fruitful

feeding in the shelter of your great tree

polishing my bill against its bark

your work

shall be my enlightenment

I will light upon your palm

gaze in simple trust

into your labyrinthine eyes

Image: Dunnock by Jacob Spinks from Northamptonshire, England (2012). This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license.

“The Mystery of Brigit” by Hilaire Wood

The Mystery of Brigit
Irish goddess of poetry, healing and smithcraft

You walked out of ancient mists
bringing light to my path,
blessing with fire
restoring the life with the flame.

Clothed in your grace
I follow your footsteps
to the place where mysteries merge
and the shapes behind myth
are revealed as truth.

Your presence soothes 
and sharpens memory,
you are my maker of song,
the radiant flame of gold
that illuminates the land
beyond the ninth wave,
that forges a sword of light
to penetrate, to heal.

Kneeling at your well
I drink of your mystery.
the waters of the sun
flood my skull with sacred fire,
flowing with light
my spirit sings of the deep.

© Hilaire Wood 

Image: IrishFlyFisher [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Charm for Difficulty in Breathing (Traditional)

“A person who had difficulty breathing might be relieved by ortha an tachtaidh:

“‘Seven of the prayers of the Son of God. And seven of the prayers of the two holy women and the angel. And the creed in honour of holy Brighid. O Brighid, come to the help of this poor person!’

“At these last words the person saying the charm breathed into the mouth of the sufferer and then said seven Paters, seven Aves and the Credo.”

                                         from Irish Country People 

                                           by Kevin Danaher, 1966.

Text with the image:

"Albatross--The water greeted me with a roar and a dash that flung me gasping back upon the sand." [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. 

Image:

Bullen, Frank T. (1904) Denizens of the Deep, New York City: Fleming H. Revell Company. 

“Home Blessing” by Mael Brigde

Home Blessing

may your smoke-hole

be blackened

your house-post straight

your cattle strong-legged

            and sure

Image: Kenneth Allen [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons. Interior, Seán Mac Diarmada's House... Although it was a cold day, there was a cheerful warm fire from the hearth. The master thatcher was forming scolbs (pins) or spars to hold the thatch together on the roof. (12 January 2009)

Poem: Copyright Casey June Wolf (2016).

“Sleepy Sovereign” by Mael Brigde

Sleepy Sovereign

streams like clean blood run

when you roll in sleep

stones settle back on silty beds

strands of glistening bubbles

scurry from your healing mouth

when you awake in spring

serpent peeps from her mound

birds gather in readiness

sun opens a groggy eye

before the first green shoot of spring

copyright Mael Brigde 2016

Image: Blackstones Bridge by Graham Horn. The River Caragh is quite turbulent at this point, even in its low state. (17 April 2008) From geograph.org.uk. Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic license.

“Brigid of the Morning” by Rowan Fairgrove

Brigid of the Morning

I am the poet and the poem

The inspiration in the night

I stand beside the Tarb Feiss

And whisper wisdom low and true

I am the shining sun of morning

A fire that burns inside the head

My gifts are knowledge and transformation

I pound and quench and draw Out souls upon the forge of time

The flowing waters of my well Soothe womb and soul alike

At childbed I am the midwife who brings new souls to birth

For mine is the gift of life.

Those who seek me will find nourishment

I am the brewer of new ale

I am the baker of the grain

All acts of transformation will I aid

The seed becomes the shoot The shoot grows as

its nature dictates Thus has it always been and

always shall be I am the vitality of fire that

dwells within.

copyright 1998 Rowan Fairgrove. All Rights Reserved.

this can also be found at http://www.conjure.com/brigmorn.html

Image "Brighid Peace" by Rowan Fairgrove.