In Tir na nÓg, the Land of the Living Heart, Brigid was singing. Aengus the Ever-Young, and Midir the Red-Maned, and Ogma that is called Splendour of the Sun, and the Dagda and other lords of the people of Dana drew near to listen.
Brigid sang:
“Now comes the hour foretold, a god-gift bringing.
A wonder-sight.
Is it a star new-born and splendid up springing
Out of the night?
Is it a wave from the Fountain of Beauty up flinging
Foam of delight?
Is it a glorious immortal bird that is Winging hither its flight?
It is a wave, high-crested, melodious, triumphant,
Breaking in light.
It is a star, rose-hearted and joyous, a splendour
Risen from night.
It is flame from the world of the gods, and love runs before it,
A quenchless delight.
Let the wave break, let the star rise, let the flame leap.
Ours, if our hearts are wise,
To take and keep.”
For anyone who needs it, this is your gentle reminder that you too are Brighid’s sacred flame, and caring for yourself is the most important flametending that you will ever do.
“wildfire, did you count the missing days like embers,
gone cold and dark in an untended hearth? surely, i am not the only one; you must have wandered once more
the halls of your home, made silent in sorrow. mourning-dove, you must have caught him still in glimpses, the silhouettes of the trees;
the late autumn rain, but they aren’t the same–
you long for sudden laughs and brightness:
the warmth of him which you feel now, from you,
which you grasped like water in your hands;
it has gone where you cannot get it back.keening woman, i wonder when you found
that heartache too could be a song:
its high clear wildness filling first your throat, unbound,
and then the evening sky.”
Kindling a Home 