Honoring Brigid

Me and a friend priestessed an Imbolc ritual for the local community. At first it was planned on top of a very high mountain near a well, with two old oak trees. One in the middle of the well and one on the shore. But the weather forecast showed winds over 35kmh and local showers.

So we did it closer to the central area not far from the sea. As a surprise many people came. We did it ouside and had a nice fire inside the circle.

As I felt in need of a more intimate ritual I did one in my home.

I came up with a poem. Strange I've never written a poem before. English is not my mother language and whenever trying the words would not come up.

Somehow I feel I don't have a fluent mother language anymore. Everything is mixed up.

Untill 7 years old I spoke only German, then school in Brazil speaking Portuguese, living in Europe - english, coming to Israel -Hebrew.

So here it is:

On a mid winter's eve.

The cry of a falcon

flying over me to see

announcing the sunset.

for the ritual to begin.

At my place of power

Engulfed by fire

Fear at first

By Brigids presence reassured I was.

To let myself be consumed

by the sacred eternal flame.

To ashes I turned.

That She gently collected into a glass container.

Reborn anew I was.

Full of energy.

But some more moulding, and forging was needed.

So molten Iron I became.

Reshaped, healed.

Brigid's instructions to me:

The sacred mantle on my partner to heal.

Whenever in need.

To look into the candle's flame.

To look at the Sun.

For there for you I shall be.

Bleessed Be Brigid. Goddess of the Winter Sun.

And so I did after the ritual, I called my partner into the room and put the red sacred matle on her to be healed.