Journey of the Heart

  Return to Brigid’s Altar Puddles, broken oak tree branches, sharp stones interrupt her voyage. Many crossroads ahead, voices echoing turn right, turn left, turn back. Without a map, onward she boldly steps.   The song of honey bee guides her forward. Burning rushes lingering scent, soothing any inner lament. Walking now past a graveyard,  smouldering bones of all   she walked away from, all who walked out on her. Cackling laughs at her chosen cloaked path. Alas! Hope smiles snowdrops and fresh grass, signs of Spring breathe Winter has passed.   Fearless she tip-toes towards the foggy green forest. The mist fingering her bare blackened feet. No time to rest. The beat of her warrior heart thieves any fears of defeat.   Her soul is nourished by the distant sight, the fire, the skies, the flames alight. Daughter of Brigid, on your path though you may falter, you too will arrive. One day you will return to Brigid’s Blessed Imbolc Altar. Yvonne Brewer  ...

  The Red Dress She gently stitches the final layer of red lace on the cuff of the sleeve.  Adds more velvet covered buttons on the back.  Runs her fingers along the curves of the skin-soft fabric.  Smiling, she imagines the voluptuous shadow,  the mannequin sprays on her workshop floor,  has a handsome dance partner  who takes her hand as they saunter to the secluded garden.  Spinning her as she careens in golden sandals, he steals a kiss between their gliding rhythmic steps.  Mistletoe berries and the red fabric glow with the light of the moon,  creating an iridescent carpet of brightness.  The humbled trees hide in faded clothing of shyness.  She sews one last button.  Her delicate creation is placed  with pride in the tiny shop window. Like a red traffic light, it pauses the rushing evening Christmas shoppers on the  narrow cobbled street. To dream and wish and blush.  Yvonne Brewer  lives in ...

Since childhood I have had a strong connection with Naomh Bríd, St. Brigid… Growing up in Ireland, I always enjoyed St. Brigid's Day, February 1st in school when we brought reeds to school and made St. Brigid's crosses. Even at a young age I questioned why St. Patrick's Day in Ireland was celebrated more than St.Brigid's Day and always felt that St.Brigid had to live on in the shadow of male saints such as St.Patrick! As a Celtic Triple Goddess She rules Healing, Poetry and Smithcraft. In particular as a Healer, She watches over childbirth and all creation. As a Goddess of Poetry She inspires and protects ideas and also shares prophesies. She has been a special Guide to me and She especially came to my awareness when I was pregnant and I have felt her presence with me through all various creative journeys I have embarked on! On Feb 1st I will honor Her by lighting candles all day as She is associated with the element of fire and St Brigid’s Flame burns eter...

In January 2015, after spending many months reading wonderful poetry on Journey of the Heart blog, I finally found the courage to send a poem to Catherine Ghosh… Catherine published it the following day on the blog. I felt so encouraged and excited about this and felt that my year was made! Now, six months later I cannot believe that I have two poems and a chapter introduction in the newly released  Where Journeys Meet: The Voice of Women's Poetry .  This is the first time I have ever had poetry published in a book. At first I battled with so much self-doubt, uncertainty and feelings of being a total newbie. But because of so much empowering support from Catherine and the poetesses involved in the project, I only ever have felt so at home on this journey. Last night as I thought about the book, I could not sleep and felt like an excited child who got up Christmas morning and had received every toy she had ever dreamed of from Santa! There was a beautiful Full Moon...

In honor of International Women's Day  today, I wrote a poem to give voice to all the young, unwed mothers who are needlessly shamed and made to suffer all around the world…. The poem emerged as I was reflecting on the injustices and struggles women in Catholic Ireland faced, in particular in the 1930s onwards, if they became pregnant outside of wedlock. In the 1930's, Mother and Babies Homes were established and in some cases pregnant girls spent years there after having their babies. The babies were then put up for adoption against their mother's wishes, and the knowledge of the babies births were kept hidden from those outside the homes, due to shame and disgrace. In 2014 the stories and scandals about Mother and Baby homes came to the surface again when it was discovered that up to 800 dead babies bodies had been  allegedly  found in a septic tank in Galway, Ireland. Horrific stories have also been revealed from people who were born in such homes or rea...

A lot of my recent poems have been inspired by amazing experiences I have had as a result of sharing reiki with people since becoming a Reiki Master in 2001… This poem “One Day”, written in 2012, reflects the struggles we sometimes create for ourselves as healers. Have you ever worked with someone you care about deeply and you want so much to get to the root of their pain, want so much for an outcome that tells you that all is well, all is healed? Even as spiritual workers; yes, we too lose patience and want the process of healing to speed up every now and then and sometimes wallow in days of frustration and impatience and try every crystal, every potion, every new reiki symbol and scream at the universe to heal this person we feel deserves to be relieved of this pain. And what changes this mindset for us? Acceptance. This poem “One Day” came about after years of sharing reiki with a close friend who lost hope many times in his spiritual journey. Then one day, I heard...