~Mike Nichols
A poem by Emily Hancock of St Brigid Press today in honor of St Brigid's Day. Emily says, "A huge figure in ancient Celtic (as a goddess) and Christian (as a saint) histories, Brigid is an emblem and energy for the reverence of Nature, of healing and kindness to all (especially the poor and the animals), and of the equality of women." She is also a patron saint of poets!
St Brigid's Eve
mid-winter's sharpened sickle, the moon
cuts cleanly through all absence,
harvests stars
with one slow sweep of heaven
while we sleep, dreams rising
and falling away like chaff
come morning, for a moment
the fields will gleam
with what darkness empties -- new stars
alight upon every stilled blade
© Emily Hancock, from The Open Gate: New & Selected Poems (St Brigid Press, 2017)
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Thank you, Emily, for allowing me to share your poem here.
Laura Shovan has the Poetry Friday round-up. Thanks, Laura!
11 comments:
Yay for St. Brigid! I have her straw cross in my office, a gift from my sister when she traveled to Ireland. Love Emily's homage poem. Thanks for sharing, Tabatha. :)
mid-winter's sharpened sickle -- now that's some gorgeous syllables all in a row! Thank you!
Breathtaking poem! Thanks for sharing it.
Lovely thoughts of St. Brigid, Tabatha, and 'dreams rising'. I want to also thank you for the special quotes you share every time. Have a nice weekend!
What a gorgeous image--stars alighting on that blade. This is just beautiful!
I am adding this poem to my collection. Thank you for sharing it.
love the line "fields will gleam with what darkness empties" - Thank you for spotlighting this patron saint of poets!
Did not know about St. Brigid. Fascinating -- patron saint of poets. What a gorgeous poem, too. :)
Just stunning - and an inspiration to us all. Like you are! :0)
In the new house the bedroom windows are NOT visited twice nightly by the moon in her travel; in fact I went out, like outside in my pajamas in the middle of the night to the middle of the road one night searching for the moon and could not find her at all. This poem staves off winter despair--"harvests stars/with one slow sweep of heaven."
What gorgeous imagery! Wow. Just stunning.
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