Càirdeas - by
That
could be a healing of sorts, but does not
seem the right register here, as I try to
bring the voice of my poetry closer to my
speaking voice, whatever that bundle, that
creel might be,
Makar
Nan robh thu san fhuaradh - by
Trust in the wrens, my love, the rain and cherry blossom,
not my blustering chest or jewelled words,
trust in them, let them be, share them a
Innis - by
To give full, gull-throated voice to these islands –
these woven creel archipelagos and proud stacs,
stepping stones to themselves, word-stores,
crucibles and memory bridges, these hieroglyphs of gneiss,
Our Waking Breath: a poem-letter from Scotland to Ukraine - by
Spring is here. Dear people of Ukraine,
your courage humbles us. Haud fast. Haud fast.
– And send them homewards, tae think again.
The Morrow-bird - by
Stones, it won’t be sufficient
just to sit on your dowps and say ‘nay’.
Trees, don’t be waving your arms about
in some new breeze every day.