Articles

The Giving So I was given the gift of land the size of my cloak. I wanted to damn the meanness of the man. Snakes writhed and scorpions glistened in the dark caves of me. But I spread my cloak, on their reptilian heads. I spread a shimmering green upon them and the touch of the cloth calmed them and they became lost in the plush of my green. When I opened my eyes my cloak was on the ground spreading and catching sunlight. Spreading, and the Chieftain’s horse reared in fright. It spread from my feet. It spread from my feet. Share

St. Brigid’s Cloak seems out there spread Blue as the summer sky The Cooley Hills defend the North And eastwards dreams the sea Roll Leinster plains far southward forth And all these lands loved she At Faughart you may kneel in prayer On the ground St.Brigid trod You will feel her gracious presence there You will feel you are close to God O Mother of the Gaol remember me As I kneel on the Faughart sod My ship is tossed on the stormy sea Guide me home to God Share

BRIGID! YOU USHER IN THE SPRING! LADY! NEW AWAKENINGS! BRIGID! YOU WELCOME ALL WHO VISIT! LADY! HOSPITALITY! BRIGID! YOU GUARD OUR FAMILIES AND FLOCKS! LADY! PROSPERITY! BRIGID! YOU SHELTER THE POOR IN YOUR CLOAK! LADY! THE GOOD NEWS! BRIGID! YOU INSPIRE SINGERS AND WRITERS! LADY! THE GIFT OF POETRY! BRIGID! YOU STRENGTHEN WORKERS IN METAL! LADY! THE VESSELS AND THE TOOLS! BRIGID! YOU GUIDE THE HAND OF HEALERS! LADY! OUR PRECIOUS HEALTH! BRIGID! YOU SOFTEN THE HATE THAT DIVIDES US! LADY! THE HOPES FOR PEACE! BRIGID! YOU CHERISH WHAT COMES TO BIRTH! LADY! HOME AND SCHOOL! BRIGID! YOU MIRROR JESUS IN YOUR LIFE! LADY! LOVE FOR ALL! BRIGID! YOU BLESS OUR WELLS AND STREAMS! LADY! THE COUNTRYSIDE! BRIGID!…

Our sincere thanks to Sr. Anne Powell, New Zealand, for allowing us to include her wonderful poem which relates to the 3 monasteries, of St. Brigid at Faughart, St. Monnina at Kileavy and the current Poor Clares at Faughart,  all linked through time by place, prayer and lives of contemplation. Of a thousand years Within the triangle of three monasteries walk the women of a thousand years, steadily singing the song line of creation and pleading for the world. Their feet are bare where rock and earth sedge and Spirit beckon to the edge of things. They know what prayer is. They know how sorrow and joy enfold a day. They know the power of facing east. They…