Even a weak flame can burn steadily on.

Yesterday my older sister turned thirty five and I had a cill shift for Brigid.

I always say that Loki is the presence behind all the healing in my relationships but that is not the case here. Brigid is, and always has been, the driving force behind my tentative relationship with my older sister. I wish I could say that I adore my older sister. I wish I could say that we have inside jokes and that I am overjoyed to see her when I visit my family in Washington State.
I wish I could say that I know her and like her.

I can't say those things though, and truth be told it causes me pain to know that I don't give her a chance.

I know what Brigid wants here. She wants the same thing Loki wants. They want me to fix this relationship. My sister has tried, in so far as she is able. I know that she could try harder, but then again...so could I.

A few years ago my older sister was going through a deeply painful and emotionally draining situation and I did the only thing I could think of to give her comfort. I gave her a Brigid's Cross necklace and told her to pray to Brigid for strength. When that necklace broke last year I bought her a new one and as far as I know, she wears is daily.

I see my relationship with my sister as a small flame. It's tiny, but it holds strong in the wind that beats against it. Much like Brigid did in a world that tried to forget Her.

It is my prayer that one day our tiny flame will be as large as the hearth fire that is my relationship with my younger sister.

Happy 35th Birthday Christina. I love you, though I do not know how to express it to you. I wish for you only the best in the years to come. May Brigid's sacred flame always burn brightly in your heart and hearth and may you always know the strength of Her arms around you.

Bees - a poem for Brigid

As a girl I heard that God would give us wings like eagles.

I never dreamt of eagles wings.

I longed for the delicate wings of the bee.

Small, yet mighty.

It wasn’t an eagles wings that flew me to the feet of the divine.

I was carried there on the wings of bees.

A colony. A hive.

Small, yet mighty.

They lifted me.

They guided me.

They took me to Her.

At Her feet I was left.

At Her table I was fed.

At Her side, I am learning.

She, who is the fire.

She, the living water.

She, the flamed haired one.

Brigid. Bríd. Brigantia.

Her name, like honey on my lips.

Her hands carried me - like so many bees.

And lay me down on a field of green.

Where I thrive.

Where I grow.

As a girl, I was told that God would help me rise up on the wings of eagles.

As a woman, I know that we don’t need eagles to survive.

We need bees.

Goddess of Poetry...

My coven decided to honor the three faces of Brigid for Imbolc. I was given the task of writing something for the aspect of Her that is the Goddess of poetry. This is the result.

Goddess of Poetry.

Oh! Goddess of mine.

Sweet Bríd, the ink of my pen.

You inspire me.

My words, blessed by you.

Refined in your sacred fire.

These words, my soul bared.

You speak and I write.

My words inspired by you.

Bright poetic flame.

Hail, to you, Brigid.

Goddess of Inspiration.

words flow like water.

Bríd. Sacred water.

Inspiration flows from you.

Verdant cloaked Goddess.

Give me words to write.

You are the Mother of Bards.

Shakespeares one true muse.

Hail Brigid.