Down By the Water at the Sacred Well, Kilpatrick, Wexford
This piece is dedicated to a soul-friend ‘anam cara’, whose light shines with astonishing brightness into the world. So bright is her light, that both light and darkness are attracted to her. She makes the world a better place by reflecting the light in others, inspiring and encouraging them. Inevitably, she also draws the attention of demons in some. These demons cannot abide the presence of her light and so, attack her in the most devious of ways. I am consistently awe-struck by her response, which is to turn her light more brightly upon them, rather than fighting the darkness. Her luminosity wins every time.
Yet, this strong woman is no shrinking violet. A true warrior, she does not operate from a place of anger but instead, channels all emotions through the heart so that they are alchemised and distilled into right action. I cannot help but think that if the world we live in, contained many more like you, dear friend, how much brighter it might be…
It seems appropriate to write this piece today (March 7th) when an ghealach (the moon) reaches her full luminosity and the presence of her light can be felt in the tides and in all the natural world, including us, whether we are aware of it or not.
Imbolc, from the Gaelic ‘imbolg’, meaning ‘in the belly’, referring in part, to pregnant ewes, is the time of Brighid, fire-goddess, light-bearer and way-shower. Also seen as a protector of sacred wells, she is associated with water, without which, the land would become parched and dry.
The Celtic Wheel turned to imbolg on February 4th last, and Spring energy was immediately palpable, not only because of the mild weather, but also, through a sense of potentiality; that anything is possible in the growing light, with care, attention, intention and commitment.
Now is the time for Spring planting, tending to the earth, coaxing new life and setting the scene for abundance. Those who engage in biodynamic growing practices work with an ghealach lán (full moon) for sowing particular seeds and transplanting. This time of year is when the dance between dark and light is in full view, up to the Vernal Equinox on March 20th, after which, darkness will fully give way to the increasing light.
This year, more than others, I feel the imperative of Spring. It is not always so for me. Sometimes, I find the urge of Spring too much and am drawn to remain in the cocoon of Winter, hibernating. Qualitatively, this year has a different feel and I wonder if it is the same for others. I am curious and open to all possibility the inherent hopefulness this time of year brings.
Over the past few years, I have met people I might never have crossed paths with, were it not for the murky circumstances in which we found ourselves. Out of the darkness, grows light and as it shines ever more brightly, we see the faces of those who walk the path with us.
Let it always be so – that the promise of Winter Cailleach for re-birth is honoured by the arrival of Spring Maiden, fresh and full of hope, light, life and love ♥
If you prefer to listen to the following poems rather than read them, the audio-recordings are at the end. Enjoy! :) I composed the song at the top of this piece in honour of Brighid and the Imbolc energy she brings. It is my hope that it may be shared far and wide at Imbolc gatherings for many years to come….
Spring Light
Spring Light, exquisite, divine
breaks through cloud
with sublime indifference
to density or darkness
knowing as it does
that nothing can touch
neither shadow nor question
without illumination.
This brightness returns the word
from silence to song
hedgerows thronged with life
await the right moment
to burst forth from long Winter slumber
into riot of form.
Trees bend and dance in Springtime gale
release their burden of Winter decay and rot
so the new can come in
branches and twigs stretching their limbs
towards increasing light
greening themselves in its presence.
The copper beech will soon let go
of leaves that clung on
when warmth of sun seeps its way
into loving embrace of roots
growing down deep to join with fungi
in soil now awakened from sleep.
Grass begins to grow again
covers holes worn by hooves
but not enough to save an ankle
from sprain in uncareful tread
when people and animals, alike in desire
are out and about in Spring air.
A bee ventures flight prompted by sun
strong enough to exert a pull
for bumbling around remaining woodpile
sampling the air before hiding again.
Dogs, alert to the change of tune
more apt to run and play
‘til increasing heat towards mid-summer
requires them to seek out shade.
A sense of potential hangs in the air
and travels through branches of trees
noted by all that fly, walk or swim
how darkness is in retreat
surrendering now to brightness of sun
with a cyclical turn of the wheel.
© Áine Fortune 2023
Water
Water flows down, down
across the land
through her veins
seeking the source
from whence it came
into the sea and on to ocean
from there to sky
in continuous motion
of vaporous gas formed as cloud
over mountains to rain again
on rivers and streams
filling up lakes
in seamless flow
no beginning, never-ending
it carries all life in tow.
© Áine Fortune 2022
Silence in Springtime When noise of the world comes crashing in like sandpaper shoes on ice too thin to support my weight train of thought disturbed by reckless din of nonsense what seems important is long since gone echoes heard like a distant song of remorse but nothing changes words as always, clouds and smoke. Oh, for silence to envelop me now sound of birdsong clear and loud through crispy ice-crystal wind-chimes the bleating of lambs in distant field carried across a hedge that shields from worst of sleet and rain until the sun peeps out again from clouds so low they sit on my head it seems though not quite heavy as dreams inside. Nightmares perhaps, a dystopian view leaves me wondering what is real or true in the muddy pools of mind. But this leaf feels like it could be there on a bed of grass that soaks in the air and sunlight. These things that compose the symphony of life pay no attention to the manufactured strife of man in all its manifestations. It carries on and does its thing of the moment, whatever that brings heeds not any man-made thought or deed. Why then allow my breath to be caught by the words I swallow fraught as they are with tension? When silence calls me home again back to the birds the nest I could make in Mother Earth with sticks and rocks and clay. © Áine Fortune 2022 The Passing of Winter Where did Winter go with its snow and ice lines of birds nestling for warmth into bare hedgerows? Where was the cold snap eliciting Winter woollies and thermal coats to keep wind out and heat around the folds of comfort in which we hide for a spell? Happily, we say – isn’t it great how mild the days are and even the nights though we don’t see stars as much for clouds. But I was ready to nest warm myself at blazing fire and rest for a time hot whiskey perhaps while a tinkle of frost whitens the grass announcing Winter’s arrival. Too quickly that time has passed again more fleeting it seems each turn of the wheel. Spring calls me now offering its boughs full of buds and promise yet part of me remains in a Winter state reluctant still to embrace nature’s urge to renew. © Áine Fortune 2022