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Sixteenth century
In castle high
upon a stony Highlands ridge,
I lived for my clan;
my father and I septs, outsiders
accepted by the chief, allowed
into the brotherhood, blood brothers
I would give my life for; the clan
meant everything to me, to all:
home, family, safety.
One evening, as we rowdied
in the dining hall over venison and beer,
my closest friend, returning wounded
on his horse, named the clan
that did it, and then died.
While mother and sisters wailed,
so young, seventeen, dying
for a blood feud centuries old,
cause long forgotten,
bagpipes skirled,
the chief planned our revenge.
With moonlight
guiding us on rocky trail
around the mountain,
we found their camp,
guarding cattle;
as we attacked, they sprang
to their feet, ready;
with dirk across my throat,
I passed from this world,
my day of honor:
I died for my clan.
Someone has been ‘speaking’ to you again! I’m glad because I loved this poetic look at a Scot’s loyalty to his clan. Well done, friend. Very visual.
Thanks so much, Kate–I love having you stop by and give me your thoughts on my poems.
16th century it may be set in but it’s still relevant today and such conflicts never leave us. Strong rendering, Willow, spare, direct, exact and resonant. i enjoyed this very much.
Thanks so much, John. I certainly hope that human nature can evolve past what seems like an actual desire for conflict and move towards peaceful resolution of problems–well, a girl can dream 🙂 As always, I appreciate your support and encouragement.
Your writing is direct and lyrical. Very tight descriptions. Enjoyed these very much.
Pat
Thanks for stopping by AHintOfLight.com
Thanks, Pat. I really appreciate your comment, and I was just over at your blog and laughed a lot, one of my favorite things to do.