Malcolm MacKerral - by
MacKerral, that was one hard winter.
Your father died on the moor road,
his bag of meal buried under snows.
Death relieved him of his load.
MacKerral, that was one hard winter.
Your father died on the moor road,
his bag of meal buried under snows.
Death relieved him of his load.
Take this wound that I offer youkeep it close & love it wellfor the storm may run at Faraidthe surf turn white Loch Eribollbut no wind can blow an organised peopleacross the unknowable oceanor drown their history in the swell we are cut & yes we bleedbut we are time & headland & will healforging […]
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