Imbolc with Rachel Elion Baird
Imbolc Storm by Rachel Elion Baird
Watching the storm
move across the continent –
a massive swath of land engulfed
on the radar – the worst of it is red and slow.
Waiting our turn,
we are in the blue,
surrounded by wind and water,
this sheath of ground
caught up on the edge
of something larger
as it snakes through.
We know it will be fierce,
that there will be things that are broken –
forecasts being difficult to predict
with utter accuracy,
just where, when or how much is anyone’s guess;
weather has a mind of its own.
I turn up the heat,
light a fire.
Softly, so softly,
call to Brigid.
the snow has begun to fall.
Imbolc 2021 Revisited by Rachel Elion Baird
Tucked in for the duration of a Nor’easter that arrived this morning I am observing the natural building and intensity of a weather front, how it allows truth to break loose. I feel tired and flat, pressure knocking at my temples. I just want to lay down and sleep this malaise off but the steady swirling pulse of the current, the way it is casts the snow in a spiral causes me to look up. Looking up draws an immediate magnetic pull-back to what is real. The interconnectedness of everything. Body. Freedom from body. I make a bed for her; she who comes. I prepare food and drink. Below me in the thicket there is a doe and her two fawns, rooting around the deep cover of the forest floor, just near my altar to Brigid. Breaking their rhythms to listen to the gusting wind and look around, they cannot see me but sense what is near. They are paying attention. So am I. I watch as they sniff around Brigid’s head, start licking her – they lick her clean of dirt and snow, then step back and look at their accomplishment.
If I get to know this storm, I will have accomplished something today. I can hear the scrape of the plow running across the main road. The paperwhites on my table are reaching towards the light and I am leaning in that direction.
I had just been reading about magical moveable palaces appearing from the thick cover of sky, landing where they will. The storm is swirling that ineffable frozen love around, I am inside a snow globe.
Giant white cornflakes are blowing sideways in a debt of honor, expressing the ultimate nature of Orlena – that is what this one is called. Sometimes we name storms, affording them all the privilege and ineffable qualities of the living entities they are. Orlena streams across my field-of vision-as her driving winds continue to strengthen. She is so beautiful, this new namesake of Brigid. I can’t help but open the door and let her in. One or two individual crystals land on the cold glass, their fine kaleidoscope patterns visible only for moments. Another one of us swirling in the Maya. Smithing, poetry, healing, protection, wisdom – her attributes, collide in sweet amusement. moments and visions, memories of Ireland are all mixing in the sky. Also, inside of me.
The storm gives away what we have made. The storm brings visible physical change, tells us to let go, let go of everything. Orlena demands it. No storm can overwhelm me, Brigid watching through haze now re-coated in snow. I say her name again and again.
The sky howls back that all will be well.
©2021, Rachel Elion Baird
For more art, poetry and weather reports you can connect with Rachel here http://rachelelionbaird.com and https://www.patreon.com/rachelbairdart
In honor of Brigid’s day, we are highlighting a few of the Nature Inspired Poets that have shared with us over the years. Enjoy!
Timothy McLaughlin
Audio recording of teleseminar, “Oral Poetry in Dialogue with Earth”
Written Poetry: Giant, Here, Fluency, and Waiting
Rachel Elion Baird
Written Poetry: Weather Girl: A Peace Project, Lone Tree on a Hill, Mother Tree, Three
Drew Dillinger, an internationally known poet and author of Love Letter to the Milky Way shared his wisdom and passion in another ONE tele seminar
