For in that sleep of death

Thoughts on seeing a graveyard on the Isle of Barra

For in that sleep of death

Dark crosses etched against a silver ocean

 

The McKinnons, the McLeans, the MacNeils

lie asleep on the machair

 

their lives played out

on fertile sward

of windblown sand and peat

sustaining life from times forgotten

writ large in flesh and blood

too many begats to number

 

they sleep above the ocean

chameleon mirror

of restless sky

raised up and laid flat

by tug of moon and storm

giver and taker away

merciful and merciless

 

they sleep below the Ben

bog, rough grass

timeless, naked rock

twisted, scoured by ice

 

Dark crosses etched against a silver ocean

 

The McKinnons, the McLeans, the MacNeils

lie asleep on the machair

Author's Note

The machair is the sward of fertile grass above the beach

Reviews

[Jeffrey Michael Buchana..]

I spent the evening reading your poems and this is my favorite. As I read the words the flow and rhythm seemed effortless. And I loved the ending to return from where you started the poem. Thank you Jeff

[alanwgraham]

Thanks Jeffrey, it helps a lot when you get some inspiration. Barra is a 5 hour ferry trip from the mainland but worth the effort.
Cheers,
Alan

[The Twin Arenas]

Good, tough stuff. I like it. This piece is jacket weather.