(Feast Day of Brìghde of the Candles) Festival of Flame

We prepare the hearth and hush the hall, that Brìghde may rise from her wintering sleep— her repose in the shadowed mound, where silence held sway and the land lay dreaming.

Now, by candle and croft, by well and flame, we beckon her home through the frost-bound veil. She comes not in haste, but in grace— a breath of spring, a spark reborn, a blessing carried on the milk-white wind.