St.Brigids Day (winner Poet’s Podium 1995, Samhlaíocht Chiarraí)
The sun awoke us.
Like a fanfare
or a burst of wild laughter.
Playfully.
Unfamiliar.
Spilling in along the floor,
Splashing up the walls,
Streaming through the ever-open door.
We didn’t know at first, what was happening,
failed to recognise the bright clamour of the sun.
And then we remembered the words
That you, druidlike, had spoken:
“The Sun will come back on St.Brigid’s Day.”
And a welling of Hope,
Pagan and Pure,
Came rising inside us,
Sitting in bed,
Brigid or Danú,
The Winter defeated:
“The Sun will come back on St.Brigid’s Day.”