Island Wounds Copyright © James Knox Whittet 2008

for Ishbell MacAskill, a noted Gaelic singer

Like music of winds across lazy beds,
your haunting voice turns memory's pained wheels;
gaunt men who scythed below the arched sky's reds;
pale women shawled and bowed beneath dark creels;

unending waits for loved ones lost in storms,
listening to seabirds' ominous wails;
peatfired walls shadowed by unearthly forms
where loss and loneliness loom and faith fails.

Rare times of joy as well:
that bare foot walk across machair in summer,
drowsed in scents with whispers of grasses,
sea's crooning talk,
black cattle on hills lowing their laments.

Your voice heals island wounds,
weak are made strong:
suffering is transformed into a song.

Music by and performed by Colin Whyles