A Samhain related poem to Brighid and some commentary.
(Image description: A photo of two very weathered antique books on top of a an old dictionary. A silver pocket watch is on the book to the right, with its hour hand on the ten and the minute hand on the two.) Credit: Photo by Daniele Levis Pelusi on Unsplash
Given that Samhain features looking to the past, I decided to look through my poetry journal and share an older piece with you from Samhain 2017.
The connection between the Cailleach and Brighid/Bride is very muddled because there’s not much significant folkloric evidence of whether they are two sides of the same deity or rival goddesses with control over the different seasons. The most common folktale that explores and tells their story is The Coming of Angus and Bride.
There’s speculation on whether it was merely made up to fit with fairy tale themes, with Angus coming to Bride’s rescue and Them battling the Cailleach, the Winter Hag. However, I recently attended an online lecture about the Scottish Cailleach hosted by The University of Glasgow and recalled some information from it; one of the tales associated with Her is that She would go to a magical pool every hundred years to renew Her youth (with no mention of Her specifically becoming Bride).
My thoughts on this is that each region had their own stories of the Cailleach, and that it was only until later did people attempt to unify them into a cohesive figure. This approach was done with greater or lesser of success, and that’s why She appears to be more of a composite of similarly related figures. There’s likely several Cailleachs instead of one overarching, elderly goddess associated with winter and the creation of lochs, mountains, cairns, and other features in the Scottish landscape. (She also appears in Irish myth, but I chose to focus on the Scottish version.) In any regard, how They may or may not be linked is up to the individual’s own perspective and practice.
My viewpoint toward Them isn’t set in stone and shifts in one direction or another, depending on evidence and UPG (Unverified Personal Gnosis). As such, the following poem reflects this change in my perception of Them at an earlier time and doesn’t entirely match how I see Them now.
Lady of Stories
Tonight You rest
beneath the mountain of the Cailleach
pulling the cowl over
Your brilliant head.
To dream and inspire
of new growth
children playing
new hope despite despair.
Your slumber is restful
but ever so abundant.
Lady of Stories,
You hold each tale
within Your mantle.
Some dark,
some light,
all of worth to be told and heard.
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