Brigid's Bed

Wading through faded parchments,
Penned by men with dank souls,
Truth searing, falling off the horizon.

Blasphemy, liar, whore!
Head held high, spittle smeared face,
Shrouded hybrid tears, unfettered fears.

Riverbed erodes entrenched in worry,
Listen to the ancient heart:
All life is sacred, one race, one belief.

Fading Briget, ripened ashes,
Brigid embodied, three sisters of fire.
Whistling faith of an enkindled muse.

Keening forlorn human souls,
Christian blindfolds, political bridle,
Bloody fields littered with false beliefs.

Creeping hired mourners,
Waking the Devil’s dogs,
Brigid forges relic restraints.

Converted Saint, Corrupted Goddess?
Mute history, Bardic gospel,
Hearths filled with burning beds.

Haunting mystery, to whom all lay claim,
Swirling orange, red and white,
Tend the sacred flame.

Warrior and child embodied soul,
Naive voice breathes her truth,
Spirit winds, Goddess called.

Wearing a crown of gray hair,
Earned through struggles with denial,
Crone bows now to the maiden.

Ancient cycle, purifying Imbloc,
Terra, humans, civilization, world
Bride returns, Crone to Maiden.

dlt March 11 2005