Summing Up

Scotland/ Homeland

You say I don't belong here
but I claim this land
its clairvoyant light
its rock-gray scent of rain.
If not this life
if not my father's
then another long gone
folded into the barrow of the earth.
Before the murder at Glen Coe
before Bonnie Prince Charles
long before the sheep came
and the clans sheared
these hills of trees
long before moist grass
greened the dark slopes
that other one lived. I remember
mountains misting in the loch
the heather budding black
the sky's fierce tribal war
back when stars spoke to stones
and Iona sent forth saints
and song and story metered out the years.
That memory blows through
these highlands like a bagpipe tune.
I hear it. I claim it.
That life. This foreign land.








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