LABYRINTH


As I enter the labyrinth,
she spirals into me,
drawing me deep inside myself,
unlocking ancient mystery:
memories of ancestors,
who drew on coins and pots and walls,
who knew how to enter sacred space
and journey between the worlds;
memories of Pasiphae,
all shining lunar cow goddess
secreted at the fulcrum
of a labyrinth of Cretan myths;
memory of losing myself
in a moon drenched crystal maze
and finding myself, deep in her heart,
as the sun rose through the trees.
The spiraling, folding labyrinth
is a dance to the centre of time,
a place where mind and body are still
and soul has a moment to sing.

Imbolc, Sixth Annual Brigid Poetry Festival

Bríd

With a nod and a smile
this goddess of creativity graciously accepts my offerings
embodied in ten years of hard manual labour
at the canvas face

This goddess of fire demands
that I stand in her perpetual flame
and tell my truth

This goddess of water demands
that I baptise myself in the deep well of my emotional memory
and paint and sculpt my truths

This goddess of poetry
chooses me as a vessel
through which to pour her rhythmic velvet
and with each act of creative midwifery
she reveals more of herself to me
becomes more visible
solid
real

When my mother named me after Saint Brigid
little did she know that she was dedicating her first born
to an ancient goddess of healing, poetry, smithcraft, midwifery, creativity, fire and water

I did not know what I was looking for
that I was longing for her
as I set out on my spiritual quest

When I found her
in Glastonbury
in her chapel
with her wolf in stained glass
milking a cow on the tor
I recognised a kindred spirit
a home coming
and yet
the very last thing I ever expected
was to meet her
to know she is with me
in a room full of my art
graciously accepting my offerings
with a smile and a nod.

Bríd Wyldearth, Imbolc 2011

First Brigid poetry festival offering

I woke up today, remembering a poem that still speaks to me and may very well have been my first step towards the goddess :"Mother of god, no lady thou,
common woman of common earth.
Our lady, ladies call thee now,
but christ was never of gentle birth,
a common man of common earth.
For gods ways are not our ways,
never a lady did he choose,
only a maid of low degree,
so humble she might not refuse
the carpenter of galilee.
Out she sang, a song of her heart,
never a lady so had sung.
She Knew no letters, had no art.
To all mankind, in woman's tongue,
hath israelitish Mary sung.
And still, for men to come she sings,
nor shall her singing pass away:
"He hath filled the hungry with good things."
O listen lords and ladies gay."
And the rich he hath sent empty away""

by Mary E Coleridge

INVITATION TO THE SIXTH ANNUAL BRIGID POETRY FESTIVAL

I think this poetry festival has made this my favourite time of year :)

This year there Anne Hill has created a facebook page which will make it easier for non bloggers to take part I hope :
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Brigid-Poetry-Festival-2011/124403944294363

Also

HEARTS AND FLOWERS
a healing journey of paint drawings, ceramic sculpture and poetry
by
Bríd Wyldearth
3rd January ~ 18th February 2011
at The Mulberry Bush Cafe, High St., Lampeter

You are cordially invited to bring a poem to share and a little water from your favourite spring or well to celebrate the begining of spring and the fiery water goddess of healing, creativity and poetry
at 5pm on Wednesday 2nd February