Last bard of the free, were it mine to inherit
The fire of thy harp and the wing of thy spirit.
The Bards of Ireland were the keepers of the stories. Stories to remind the people who they were and to keep alive the flame and Light of their essential nature. Long after the official class of Bards faded, there were those of a bardic nature who continued to write the stories, poems, and songs. I found these lines, written by a Mr. Callanan, in a book that was once my Irish grandfather’s. Popular Songs of Ireland, published in 1886. Words for that time and for this time.
The recent election here in the US was perhaps not all some of us hoped for. But within this darkness it was a light of possibility. And a story of ourselves as a people of passion and compassion, inclusion and justice both social and environmental. Now the voting is over. But it is on us to continue this story.
I have one vote. I have one light to shine and one song to sing in this world. Sometimes it seems so small compared to the vast darkness that surrounds us. But it’s what I have. And in this season of celebrating the return of the Light, I will shine and I will sing.
This one light. This one song. The fire of the harp. The wing of Spirit.
Judith – firstname.lastname@example.org