When you stand before the fire There shall be no more weeping. The trees shall whisper and wind shall moan: Your fate is in your hands.
What is the path of your choosing? How shall you walk this road? With spine that reaches, earth to sky And feet that tread surely.
Drink now of the waters That bring life to your soul. There is nothing that will quench Your thirst like this.
Set forth. Be well. Walk strong.
T. Thorn Coyle Imbolc
This is an offering for the annual Brigid in the Blogosphere festival. I wrote it in 2010
My friends and I will gather and read poetry in Her honor tomorrow night.
May your cream be sweet and your hearth warm.