Brigid, Druidess of the Oak
Shrouded in verdant cloak.
You steal by my door,
With your lantern flame Awakening Spring
I welcome you, and the protection
That you bring
No mask required within Tar agus failte.
No earth, turf, nor sod will hide me,
No fire, sun, nor moon scorch me,
No water, lake, nor sea swamp me,
No air, wind, nor mist ail me,
No fairy Sidhe dare enchant me.
And thus you shield me
You have taken the key
From the Cailleach Beara
And sent her back to winter.
I am but an aging ‘covided’ crone.
With maiden-ness beyond my grasp
Lurking in the 5km margins
Where there be dragons,
but Nature turns to birth,
and I will dance again with the high king.
And feel the sun on my speckled skin.
Tar agus failte.
Written by Mawie Barrett
Art by James Wappel