Brighid

There’s a tree by the well in the wood
That’s covered in garlands
Clooties and ribbons that drift
In the cool morning air
That’s where I met an old woman
Who came from a far land
Holding a flame o’er the well
And chanting a prayer
Goddess of fire, Goddess of healing
Goddess of Spring, welcome again
The told me she’d been a prisoner
Trapped in a mountain
Taken by the Queen of Winter
At Summer’s end
But in her prison, she heard the spell
The people were chanting
Three days of Summer
And snowdrops are flowering again
She spoke of the Cell of the Oak
Where a fire is still burning
Nineteen priestesses tend the Eternal Flame
Oh but of you, my Lady
We are still learning
Brighid, Brigantia
The Goddess of many names
Then I saw her reflection in the mirrored well
And I looked deep in her face
The old woman gone, a maiden now knelt in her place
And from my pocket I pulled a ribbon
And in honour of her maidenhood
I tied it there to the tree by the well in the wood