New Scotland waiting to be born
These letters are for you, my love
To you, country of the empty mountains
Land of abandonment, I sing for you in exile
Your sky slashing sgurrs
golden days on silver beaches
Stir my heart
Ancient oak woods of my soul -
Fallen strength filling memory.
From far away in a hard white land
Far, very far, from the song of your
Waves and eternal wind
I send you an exile’s fanatic love.
I sing you dreams of republic and a hundred
Thousand farms, long vanished, alive still
Under the stones of old crofts
Burning still under the dark water
Singing still in the buttery wind
That shakes the end of your long winter
All the desperate hopes of this dwindling age
Come to fruition on your bracken yellow hills
Alba nuadh, new Scotland of my heart,
Waiting to be born.
Author: Duncan MacNae
Exiled Gael, scion of the Dust Bowl, dweller within Divine Grace, admirer of mountains, I have made my peace with trout and the starlings. Looking for a river and healing trees.
duncanmacduncan5@gmail.com
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