Contain

Snow woke us from our slumber,
open windows to a clement January eve,
more arrived beyond the foretold flurry.

We cannot contain you in prediction
or in fact, no matter our persistence.

MotherFather, Elder Brother, Sister Bride,
you are Wild in our self,
much bigger than we plainly hold.

You do not reside in books or buildings,
altar tables, cups,
images hung encrusted in gold,
flowing robes of rules.

Those, our inventions, constructed to explain.
We compose to console
but only for the privileged who agree.

MotherFather, Elder Brother, Sister Bride
You are bigger than what we may design.

Within myself, cathedral, forest glen,
Infinitity, there you reside,
MotherFather, Elder Brother, Sister Bride.

.

.

.

Author’s Note:

Welcoming Brigid into my home this feast day. Acknowledging the space she can hold as Wisdom and Spirit in theThree in One. Oh, this may ruffle some feathers. But as Sophia, Brigid, also speaks to inspire us to wisdom and enlighten us to the Eternal.

And, on a different note of silliness, today two friends of mine, Michael and Kynan, responded on Facebook to our unexpected storm and made me chuckle. Our weather people this year have not been lucky in predicting the weather. We were only suppose to have a very “light flurry.”

The inspiration for my poem is Brigid’s and my friends’ honest response to our snow:

  • Kynan: One man’s flurry is another man’s winter blizzard Juno.
  • Michael:  It flurried on my happy ass last night, I had fallen asleep reading and was awoken by the snow blasting in the window I left open….

Bride of Kildare

IMG_3881

A clootie, prayer cloth, hanging from my tree outside welcoming St. Brigid this eve of her feast day.

Radiant Fire

Oh, my beloved, from my hands words flow,
radiant fire, Bride’s ignited glow.

In your blessing through fire’s light,
I am a poet in Brigid’s night.

Oh, my beloved, I walk your guiding rays,
luminous flame, Kildare’s bright blaze.

In your blessing through fire’s light,
I see deeply in Brigid’s night.

Oh, my beloved, I’m forged by your hand,
Mary of Gael’s ardent brand.

In your blessing through fire’s light,
I am transformed in Brigid’s night.

.

.

.

Author’s Note:

Tonight is the eve of St. Brigid’s Feast Day. This year I am devoting thirty days to her and trying my hand a writing some prayers. Above is one of my first attempts.

I am learning about Celtic spirituality and she is known as a patron of poets and bards. She was a wonderful and powerful woman. A great goddess to know.

The photo is a clootie, a prayer cloth. I will say the prayer as I hang this tonight. It is said that as she travels through the veil this evening, she will bless those who welcome her with this mantle.