When my blood was carried
From its cradle in the wind swept Orkneys
In the veins of cursing Scottish labourers
Before mingling with the ancient Thule of Labrador
Those who left their island homes
Knew their feet would cross the threshold
Their ears would hear their kinfolk’s voices
No more in this life
Now I sit in the ancient capital
Of an ancient island
I Skype my folks for pennies
I ride steel pterodactyls back to see them
I read their thoughts on my crystal ball
Sometimes I am astonished how
Our magic has grown
By leaps and bounds
No comments:
Post a Comment