On the Week Before the Brigidine Festival by Brid McDonnell

On the Week before the Brigidine Festival.

Brigid, my namesake, how I wonder about you,

The all-embracing goddess and the saint.

What is it about you that is burning bright again,

After millennia of continuous flame.

Unforgettable your lasting love, your poverty, your healing.

Bristling through place, space, time immemorial.

As you initiate your monastery forward

When you cover your cloak over fertile land.

Matriarch in the stars,

Primordial as Mary

As you wet nursed her child.

Mary of the Gael

Where do you lie?

With us and on high.

The people’s person

Vastly beyond Saint Brigid,

Although she you once were.

 

I adore you with your cross

As girl, as mother, as cailleach.

Whoever you were,

Whoever you are,

Blessed by God to be our archetypal lady.

Let it be so.

Woman of the Tundra.

Woman of the sacred well,

Patron of poets, smiths, healers

Do we pay you homage

Oh. Brightening one.

As you journey through the years

Lastly as the old woman of winter,

Who is babog with the dawning light

With all the promise of spring remembered.

We believe again in your mighty power.

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