I come as Brigid.

I am dreaming, resting, on a straw bed.

I have watched the weaving of the rushes into crosses. I have watched the washing of the hands, face and feet. I have watched the eating of the loaf.

Slowly an awful dread spreads through me.

These people have welcomed me into their homes, lit their fires in my honour, prayed for the darkness of winter to turn into the promise of Spring. These people invoke me as a visionary and a planner and ask for my blessings.

These people expect so much.


Something enters my belly.

Brigid, the land goddess, smiles.

I am enchanted. I am now growing, pregnant expanding energy fills my body.

I know the promise of Spring will be fulfilled.

The earth can awaken again.

The transition has manifested.


We come as pilgrims at dawn.

Everything darkness.
Everything still.
Everything hidden.

We come as pilgrims at dawn.
Slowly, in the east, red glows on the horizon.
A shaft of fire flows across the sky towards us.
We turn.

The fire of Spring arrives on earth, lights the mound’s chamber, the cave, the womb of the Goddess.  The passageway stones respond and the inner chamber stirs into life, secretly.

We come as pilgrims at dawn.
Around us the ewes wait on the frosty pastures, warm as the milk for new born lambs tingles in their udders.

We welcome Brigid into our hearts, into our lives.

Page last updated: 12th Jan 2011