Once More, With Feeling....

Brighid, again....
Once more, with feeling,
Once more, Her festival.
Once more.

Brighid Duffy of Kildare,
My long-beloved ancestress,
Daughter of Duffy,
As am I.

An unique woman,
Unlike any other of her time.
"Not like other young things"
Said the poem.

She wanted to marry God.
She thought she was special,
She thought she had something to offer
And she did.

Look at this world,
Thousands of years later.
Everywhere, all over the globe
We know her name.

She is Springtime.
She is snowdrops
Blooming in the snow.
She is Hope.

She is Barding,
She is creating something
Where nothing was before.
She is Song.

She is Making,
She is using hands and heart
To make the world better.
She is Craft.

She is Healing.
She is waters of comfort
Flowing over bruised flesh.
She is Love.

On this day
The sun shines brightly
Onto melting snow.
It is Her day.

And she gifts us
With the sound of water
Snow melting, rain falling,
Life returning.

I will sing today.
I will do something loving.
I will make something new.
I will praise Her.

I have written
This poem, in the morning
On Her day
And for Her.

Brigid, my Mother,
My Ancestress, My Goddess
My inner Fire,
My Harpsong...

Burn bright.
Dance today, old limbs joyful
Sing with me
Voice rich and full.

Create with me,
Something new and lovely,
Making beauty
Where was none

It is Your Day.
I praise You
Once more,
With feeling.


Aisling the Bard, for Her Lady
Imbolc, 2011