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A Scotsman's Mourning
November 15, 2018
The waves slowly lull me into a state of lamentation,
Grief for my grievously wounded wife
killed by their guns,
Woe for my lovely abducted daughter
wrested away by their hands,
Bereavement for my bonny recruited son
borne offshore by their ships.
Pity for my tattered self-stagnated by their greediness.
So I stand now on the cliffs of old Galloway.
Looking out from the edge,
solitude standing behind me,
and slowly pushes me forward.
© Adam P., Goleta, CA
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