A Prayer for the Soul in my Arms

When Airmid’s herbs and Micah’s tricks
Can’t heal the pain and relieve the sick,
May I and Flidais comfort you
With whisps of pink and streams of blue.

While Brighid’s touch and loving caress
Gathers and holds who loved you best,
To the West, across the sea,
Let Manannán mac Lir carry thee

To Tech Duinn where Donn still dwells
An isle of stone among the swells
To rest yourself and mend your soul
After this life has exacted its toll.

And when it’s time to move again,
For Tír na nÓg to let you in,
Eat the fruit and draw your breath
And never again know pain in death.

This is my own original work. It’s a prayer I’ve been tryin to write for years now and haven’t been able to. However, in the last 48 hours, it seems to have just flowed. I found myself sneakin away to write as I felt it and now that I’ve compiled it, it feels…whole.

This is the 2nd part of my Deathwork series.

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