Brigid, Goddess of Light
Watching our world burn, you must wonder
how we have wandered so far from your way.
Goddess born of light, swathed in a cape of sunbeams¾
you, whose footfalls blossomed to plant our path
with succulent honeysuckle, gilding every hill in rolling gorse,
raising Duir the mighty oak to teem in humming forests,
to fill with song of thrush, setting salmon to leap
quicksilver over rilling streams—call us back now
to drink from your precious wellspring, to heal
in your temple of light, to worship again your sacred wilds.
Anne Casey, Ireland
