Spirits

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My ancestors are made out of madness; 

that Cape Breton tune, Strathspey; evictions—

Fuadaichean nan Gàidhea; and tendencies.

Secrets, resentment, red hair.

 

My ancestors come out in bagpipes; old rubber boots 

dancing on worn kitchen floors. The lilt of their language

in shadows, ghostly Gaelic traces lifting

from my sodden English tongue.

 

Dairy cows, sea air, two pigs, black-faced sheep. 

All left behind. Again and again. But what they took

wherever they went, and passed it down— 

my stubborn Scottish pride.

 

 

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League of Canadian Poets, Poetry Pause, May 2, 2025; 

previously published in Orbis International Literary Journal, #207, Summer 2024