Croi - pronounced kree - is the Irish for heart. At Brigid's Day I picked that word from a basket and tied it as a clootie to a hazel tree. It was a well wishing tree. A plea for renewal at Imbolc.
It has seemed over this past year that so many people have had had their hearts broken. People are ill. The earth is sick. Women are systematically violated in perversely imaginative ways. Men are imprisoned by the mythic expectations of strength.
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