Today is the Feast of St. Brigid. I’m a little indifferent to most poetry, but there are a few that hold great meaning for me. This one speaks to my roots, my training, my loves and my love. In fact, it was the poem that my older sister read for us at our wedding [my younger sister read a snippet of The Velveteen Rabbit, about being loved until you were worn out, and how that’s when you become real].
Masons, when they start upon a building,
Are careful to test out the scaffolding;
Make sure that planks won’t slip at busy points,
Secure all ladders, tighten bolted joints.
And yet all this comes down when the job’s done
Showing off walls of sure and solid stone.
So if, my dear, there sometimes seem to be
Old bridges breaking between you and me
Never fear. We may let the scaffolds fall
Confident that we have built our wall.