Imbolc

A seasonal blessing and how it found me

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

I am the dream of awakening.

I am the returning of the light.

I am the tough green shoot pushing up through the pavestones, I am the first kiss of sunlight on the unfurling petals of the snowdrop. I am the wind which whispers the gentle pull of home to the migratory bird.

I am the drop of ice melting on the mountainside with its great dream of the ocean.

I am the sap rising in the blossom tree just before it reveals its sticky buds to the sky; I am the riotous celebration humming away beneath the earth’s mantle of frozen sleep.

I am the rousing of the bee from its winter slumber, and the soft pad of the mother-wolf’s paw on the snow as she prepares to birth her pups.

I am hope, potential, rebirth and promise. I am the kindling breath which transforms a spark of inspiration into a blazing torch.

Give me the silent crescent moon rising over the sea and I will build you a bridge of silver light so you can walk across and lie in it.

Give me the frost-hardened wilderness and I will lay my cloak of radiant green life over it.

Give me the healer, the poet, the midwife, the craftsmith and the prophet, and I will replenish her essence and make her new again.

I am Brigid, Bast, Inanna and Hestia. I am the fierce protectress of the sacred fire.

Tonight I bestow my gifts of power and courage at the hearth of your soul. Power to shed all that which no longer serves you, and courage to clear your heart and mind for the dawn that awaits you. For I am the longing of the spirit which refuses to be consumed by a narrative of fear and chooses instead to place itself vivaciously on the side of love.

I am the song which cannot be silenced, for it is carried deep in the bones of the land. I am the flame which cannot be doused, for it is kept aglow in the hearts of the free. I am the wellspring of knowledge and the milk of the life-force. From the darkness of the earth I give light to the fires that will forge the new world.

I am the stirring in your belly that knows what you are capable of, and just how much your gifts are needed now. For you are as much a part of this world as the rivers and the forests, the creatures and the stars in the night sky. All are sacred to me.

For I am the Exalted, Goddess of land, sea and sky.

I am the fire within which will not be contained any longer.

I am the quickening, I am the serpent uncoiling, I am Imbolc.

I am the dream of awakening.

---

Author’s note:

Imbolc is an ancient Celtic fire festival associated with the Goddess Brigid. It celebrates the first stirrings of the spring in the northern hemisphere and is held on or around the 1st February, halfway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox.

Ten years ago, I climbed up a hill and came back down with this poem. Unusually for me, the poem arrived almost fully formed. I wrote it down, changed very little and published it the next day on a website called Rebelle Society. It’s a rare and wonderful thing when creativity happens like that; truly a kind of magic.

To my surprise and delight, the poem grew wings of its own and found its way around the world. It’s been used in ceremonies and rituals, sampled on a hip hop track, featured on podcasts, read at retreats, and a composer of classical music once wrote to me to ask if they could turn it into an opera song. (It’s also been plagiarised, butchered, renamed and misattributed - but that’s another story.)

My writing style has changed a good deal since I wrote it, but I’m so grateful for this poem. It made its way into print in my first poetry collection, The Honey in the Bones, and I feel like the piece first taught me that I had something to say that people might want to hear.

In the style of a Celtic ‘I Am’ poem, the opening line is ‘I am the dream of awakening’. Ten years on, I feel as though the awakening is quite possibly upon us - or at least that the alarm clock’s going off. Have you ever tried writing an ‘I Am’ poem? It can be a great exercise in imagination, embodiment and interrelatedness with the more-than-human world, and also makes a great theme for poetry workshops for kids.

Blessings are always free to use and share, but I appreciate credit being given.

I’m humbled that this poem has found its way to so many people, and perhaps even spread some of the magic of the land out into the world. May it be of benefit.

To close, another beautiful traditional Celtic blessing (not written by me!) of Saint Brigid for the home:

May Brigid bless the house wherein we dwell.
Bless every fireside, every wall and door.
Bless every heart that beats beneath its roof.
Bless every hand that toils to bring its joy.
Bless every foot that walks portals through.
May Brigid bless the house that shelters us.

With thanks to

Kaitlin Curtice

of The Liminality Journal for sourcing the above.

A blessed Imbolc to all.

In dark times, may the light return.

With love,

C x

---

Thank you for reading 🤍 My book of poetry, The Honey in the Bones, is available here.