A poem about Brighid during Her own time of war.
(Image description: A photo of a piece of metal in a forge. Sparks fly in all directions as the metal is heated.) Credit: Photo by Greg Rosenke on Unsplash
The Flow of War
In the flow of war,
how did You work
against its horrors?
Did Your pleas to Ruadan
break like an arrow’s shaft
when he joined his father’s side?
Brighid, did You speak satire
against Your beautiful King,
only for it to fall on heartless ears?
As You healed Your kinsmen,
did You hope against war’s tides
that Ruadan wouldn’t be among the injured?
As You forged weapons,
did You whisper to the molten iron
to not strike Your red-haired boy’s flesh?
With his scarlet meaning,
did You fear Your son’s name
would spill onto the ground?
Brighid, did Your keening
flow into Bres’s ears
at the loss of his son?
How did the torrents of war
course through Your heart,
as it does for so many others?
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