I make this prayer
to Brigid,
daughter of the Dagda,
goddess of poetry,
healing and the forge.
You who weave together
the threads of my purpose,
tending fire,
making medicine,
stringing words together
between trees.
You whose voice
runs like a river,
smoothing stones
and singing.
Pen in hand,
stepping softly
onto this open page,
I ask you
to flow through me.
Make me the water
and the smooth stone,
moving and still,
changing and changed.
I bow to your fluency,
your ferocity
and the gentleness
of your healing hands.
I sink to my knees
in the river of words
you command.
Thank you
for choosing me
as your own.
Photo by Debby Hudson
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