Seventh day in Irish wilderness, I, Sister
Muriel, ventured to borderlands of pagan
And Christian faiths, soul searching,
Praying, pains suffered by injury, illness,
Dangerous turn in path I took, into
Darkness, self-doubt, failure as sister
In Christ. Why did I make this life-
Choice? I am yearning for beginnings
New, upon hill fort I climb. No, I was not
Alone. Awaiting sunrise, we held hands,
Dawn-facing semicircle, my twin sister,
Betrys, Druid priestess, standing at my side.
Have I abandoned Christian faith? My
Answer would come slowly, deep within,
Roots infiltrating rocky Irish soil. Dark
Robe discarded, undergarments to feet
Falling, I yearn for summer sun upon
Pale body, hair undone, shoulder-flowing,
Necklace of beads and bones, blue paint
Upon my face. Summer solstice sun rises,
Light illuminating my soul. Unceasing wind,
I feel ancient calling, primitive, profound.
For this week I am no longer Sister Muriel,
I am my old self, Druidess Bryna.
Hands upon my shoulders, I thought my
Twin sister, Betrys; however, familiar
Supporting strength, pained suffering
I knew well. “Fear not, my child,” voice
Whispered at my ear. “Within your flesh
And blood flows pagan and Christian
Faiths, this you cannot deny.” Naked before
Holy Mother Mary I stood, her radiance
As rising sun. At Easter, we had worshiped
The same, awaiting rising sun, risen son,
Similar beliefs, Christian and pagan, this
Spring morn we gathered, east-facing.
Thanks for reading.