Brighid, lady of poetry, bless this space where the mind flows free, where the words trickle, a stream over stones. Let our words meander through the land, shaping our path as they are shaped by it in turn. Bless our words.
Brighid, lady of the hearthfire, bless this space where we may warm ourselves with the fires of community, the heat of shared hearts around the hearth of the soul.
Imbolc is a time of beginnings, when the buds defy the Cailleach’s white grip. It is your day, Brighid, and so we begin.
Bitheadh e mar sin.