Inspiring Enchantment & Illumination with Tarot & Intuitive Guidance

Selections from the Brighid Poetry Slam

The Sixth Annual Brighid Poetry Festival this year was the best one yet!   Every year, everyone on the Web is invited to share a favorite poem in honor of the Goddess of poetry, healing and craft. There were hundreds and hundreds of sumptuous selections.

This weekend, I am sharing two selections from the blissful bounty of beautiful offerings I found as I perused the pages of the poetry participants. (Ah, yes!  Alliteration engulfs me!).

This was posted by the multifaceted and fascinating Deborah Lipp.  She shares a beautiful song/poem by the late Isaac Bonewits.  Blessed be!

There Were Three Sisters

words by Isaac Bonewits, music English trad. (“Henry Martin”)
© 1987, 2001 c.e.

There were three Sisters in our ancient land,
In our ancient land there were three.
And they did dispute which of them
Should be, should be, should be,
Greatest of all in the hearts of the free.

Oh, first spoke Danu, the Mother of All,
Her voice was as rich as the earth:
“I give them my cattle, my grain,
And mirth, and mirth, and mirth.
Freedom without joy is of little worth.”

And then spoke Macha, the Goddess of War,
Her voice was the roar of the wave:
“I give but courage, for fear will
Enslave, enslave, enslave.
Freedom’s a gift given but to the brave.”

Now third spoke Rion, the Light of the Moon,
Her voice was as vast as the sky:
“I give to their thoughts great wings
To fly, to fly, to fly.
Freedom means naught if you never ask why.”

[Repeat first verse. Instrumental break.]

But then came Bridget, the Queen of All Arts,
Her voice was a flickering flame:
“My sisters I fear your gifts miss
Their aim, their aim, their aim.
None but through me can their true freedom claim.”

“For pleasure and riches are fleeting at best,
And a warrior’s strength is quite brief.
And knowledge alone brings them naught
Save grief, save grief, save grief.
Without beauty’s fire within their belief.”

“My healers restore hope to those who despair.
My smiths forge them weapons so grand.
My bards cause all those who kneel
To stand, to stand, to stand.
The fires of Freedom are lit by my hand!”

There were four Sisters in our ancient land…

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