The Illuminating Spark: Brighid Weaving Her Mantle

A poem inspired by the start an art project.

(Image description: A photo of green fields and hills, some plots separated by wooden posts. Some trees can be seen in parts of the image. The land stretches far off into the distance, with white puffy clouds against a blue sky.) Credit: Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash

During my flamekeeping shift, I returned to my loom. I’ve been feeling the need to practice my weaving skills, as they’ve gotten a bit rusty.

The current project I’m working on is for an Imbolc Exchange run by Clann Bhríde. It’s somewhat similar to the Secret Santa tradition, instead taking place around Imbolc. Participants exchange handmade Brighid’s crosses, Brighid’s mantles, and other related crafts. It’s meant to celebrate community in Brighid’s honor.

The weaving project prompted me to write this poem, as I wondered about Brighid’s mantle and what Her experiences in making it might be like.

Brighid Weaving Her Mantle

I think of Your famous mantle,

draped around Your shoulders,

a legend of Your kindness and cleverness.

Was it given to You?

Perhaps, but Your blessed mantle

feels crafted by Your deft hands.

Even with Your ability,

did Your fingers fumble

while arranging the warp?

Did inexperience pass into expertise

as You worked the yarn

over and under, under and over?

Emerald, sage, and grass green,

hues of the land coming together, one day

spanning the distance of the Curragh.

Once removed from the loom,

did You hang it on a sunbeam

to admire Your handiwork?

Your fair fingers idling

over the delicate fringe

as Your prayed or sang.

I ponder these images,

sacred scenes resonating

as I weave.