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

*‘Duir is the word for the oak tree in the Irish language (Gaeilge), also called ‘the mighty oak´
In Irish mythology, Duir is the Oak King who rules over summer