Brigid
Oh, Lady
Bright fall the struck sparks from Your anvil
And the dark night within seems
To seethe with stars.
Your mantle sweeps past,
Brushing my brow,
And icefire chills spiral my spine.
(The hammer falls, force and form
And white-hot will)
Oh, Muse of Fire
I am not moth to your flame, but lamp
Unlit, awaiting.
A lost flicker, embraced, enfolded,
Coaxed by Your sweet breath
To fierce kindling,
Singing the flow of Your light
Into my hands.
(Flame unconsuming
Lights the dark cavern within.)
Oh, Goddess
Your hands stir deep springs within me;
Meaning swirls and glimmers, rising, renewing.
My cupped palms, my heart, overflow.
This blessing says I may touch, taste, but never keep
This glory, unfailing, that You grant.
(The well fills with shining tears, but mercy changes
Salt to sweet)
Oh, Shining One
Your grace descends, threefold and whole,
Charged with the lightning-flash.
As Your fingers touch my upreaching hand,
I taste Your power in my words.
(Lucky star shines on high, ever lighting my way.)