Poem inspired by the life of my 6x great-grandparents.
Isobel at the Shore of Bucaidh
To you who’d read my songs of devotion
And only hear of pain and rage.
There is but a story of true emotion
From the dust of history in a forgotten age.
Standing fine upon the rocks n’ broken shell
At the Shore of Bucaidh.
Toes lapped by the salty sea.
I watched her awhile and remained unseen
her Beauty silent stead.
For our lands were a mess of things unclean
The English and Scots alike, were dead.
Our Jacobite war had past
And now here she stood, my love so true.
virtue, fare and light at last
From death surpassed, grew a world anew.
I scowl at the stink of the rotting men,
And the decay of corpses there.
For across this craggy highland glen
Our lands and homes, we’re burnt now bare.
But in my loss, love was found
Here upon the Moray Firth.
Red haired, her beauty bound
To the sodden highland Earth.
Stephen Robert Kuta
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