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A poem for Brigid on Imbolc Eve, dedicated to all in need, calling upon the face of She Who Heals
He is lonely.
Shadows of bombs burst loud
In the empty apartment.
Sirens doppler by.
Pour out the healing waters on us all.
Where love is, flows the healing balm, the soothe to soul, the ease to heart.
Where love is, flows the mending of the world.
She is searching.
There is something that waits
In darkened city buildings
That will feed her soul.
Pour out the healing waters on us all.
Where love is, flows the healing balm, the soothe to soul, the ease to heart.
Where love is, flows the mending of the world.
They are walking.
Crops lost to this flooding
In land dried hard from drought.
Will they find home?
Pour out the healing waters on us all.
Where love is, flows the healing balm, the soothe to soul, the ease to heart.
Where love is, flows the mending of the world.
We have done this to ourselves and to each other.
Holy Brigid, we are calling out your name.
Even those who do not know you, need this healing.
Even those who are the ones who mete out pain.
Pour out the healing waters on us all.
Where love is, flows the healing balm, the soothe to soul, the ease to heart.
Where love is, flows the mending of the world.