In honour of the ancient Goddess on the festival of Beltain

SHADOWS OF AN ANCIENT GODDESS by Bríd Wyldearth 2011 An ancient woman squats above an old church door. She holds her vulva open, impossible to ignore. Weird witch Síla na Gig, powerful, daring and rude, I wish I dared sit on a church wall wicked and wanton and nude! Eerie faerie Síla na Gig, bathing your quim in the sun, your holy hole outrageously obvious, your mouth fixed in a mocking grin, you might as well be shouting to pilgrims rich and poor: “I am your mother, your sister, your wife, your daughter, your lover, your whore." Orgasmic dancing Síla na Gig, are you just prehistoric pornography? Or do you have something to say to the twenty first century? "I will not collude in your big cover up. I will not clothe myself in your shame. Uncensored and open and honest and proud, I show the world who I am and why I came." Why do you sit on a church wall? Why do you show us your cunt? Why did the stonemason carve you? And what exactly is it that you want? “I was here before the church was and I’ll be here long after it’s gone. I honour the place of original magic the place from which we all come I open the gate between worlds the doorway to life and to death this gesture is just as important as any gesture to pray or to bless I am your ancestral goddess. I am swollen and violated and raped. This is the result of your violence. I will not disappear without trace. When you seek to disempower me, you invade me against my will you build churches over my temples and groves and convince my children that I am evil. Remember where you originate. Remember your spiritual roots. Remember that god is a woman as well. Remember deep, radical truths. Womanhood is as sacred as any church or holy place. We give birth, we give pleasure and we give love, we give comfort and healing and peace.”

SEVENTH ANNUAL BRIGID POETRY FESTIVAL

And with the festival:
https://www.facebook.com/BrigidPoetryFest
it seems time to post on my blog again. The first poem I want to post is one I feel to be my favourite at the moment:

Still I Rise
You may write me down in history 

With your bitter, twisted lies, 

You may trod me in the very dirt 

But still, like dust,
I'll rise.



Does my sassiness upset you? 

Why are you beset with gloom? 

'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells 

Pumping in my living room.



Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides, 

Just like hopes springing high, 

Still I'll rise.



Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops.

Weakened by my soulful cries.



Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don't you take it awful hard

'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines 

Diggin' in my own back yard.



You may shoot me with your words, 

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness, 

But still, like air,
I'll rise.



Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds 

At the meeting of my thighs?



Out of the huts of history's shame 

I rise

Up from a past that's rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide, 

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear

I rise 

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave. 

I rise

I rise

I rise.

Maya Angelou

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

Brighid2010@delicious.com

What reminded and inspired me to go looking for invites to Brighid 2010, was the following edited email from my dear friend Nigel Lees. He has given his kind permission for me to post his poems on my blog. Nobody has ever dedicated a poem to me before and they are both so beautiful and so in tune with my experience of my namesake goddess that I am proud to make them my contribution to the poetry slam.

I am attempting to tag this to brighid2010 at delicious.com where you can catch the web of poetry we are weaving this full moon Imbolc.

Dearest Brid
I have been inspired to write two poems about this time of year. I know how this time of the year is very special to you so I’d like to dedicate them to the one and only Brid!

Much love
Nige

Two Poems by Nigel Lees:

Brighid

She comes up through the rich brown earth
A shadow before the light
Warming us with her Eternal Flame
Brighid, daughter of fire
Burn the chill from my heart
Burn the fear from my soul

Bride Bridie Brigit Brid
Awaken the seed, the passion in the soil
Awaken the passion in me
Sing to the land a song of longing
Welcome her return
Welcome her giving

Bright One of Kildare
Bring your breath of fire
To those not yet born
Midwife of my dreams
Bring flowers in your wake
Bring healing from your hearth.

Wake Up

Restless days between Yule and Ostara
With a cold bitter wind blowing through the world
Winter not far behind and Spring, oh so close, oh so close
Lead the way with words so old
Into a land stirring from sleep

Bright One with your arrows of fire
Kiss the soil with flames of knowing
Say goodbye to the Hag, see how she flies!
Draw up the warmth from our Mother’s heart
help us give birth to the light within

Stir up the cold ashes of yesterday
and purify this home
Scatter them on the wind and watch them burn
Restless no longer, the land knows the sign
It’s time for Bride to walk the earth.