#8 St Triduana

St Triduana, the king saw beauty in your eyes. You, despising the King's glare so much, blinded yourself - removing those orbs that held two whole world’s of conflicting desire.

Born in the Greek city of Colosse, you and your companion, St Rule, travelled to Scotland with the bones of St Andrew. These relics, give birth to a nation and helped assemble the national flag -  a flag not dissimilar to one used by imaginary pirates.

Other worldly, King Nectan,saw something in you, that you did not see in yourself. Perhaps the King of Picts, not being a man of The Word, could not read your body language. Perhaps, he was unable to listen to your words. Maybe, he was unable to communicate in the way he desired, not being wholly in communion with your God.  His love was unable to see you.

But we are told that your injury became your gift. Curing eye disorders, you were able to bestow unto others what you lacked. A blind seer, a magician of sorts, a divinor of holy divinity.

One thousand years after your death, you appear in the dreams of a 17th century English woman. You instruct the dreamer to travel to Edinburgh, where you are buried, and upon arrival at your graveside, this dreamer awakes from her blindness. It is said that others have also prayed to you -  whereupon sight has been granted.

Looking into the distant past, I cannot really tell what is going on. Only that you existed and in some sense, you are - I know this, as I reach my hands out into the darkness, on the evening before your feast day.