If I carved a stone for him
It would be in the rosy
Peterhead granite.
The memories evoke
Warmth and ruggedness; brow
Crumpled, flesh pinched by salt wind.
A canny man - yet one
He left that hulk, the Muckle Kirk, [big church]
To go to Jesus.
Perhaps ower canny - gentle, [over cautious]
So that death came
Of a broken heart.
Yet the stone stands, something
In time's mist; remember
ROBERT MACKIE,
With Christ.
This recalls my grandfather who I can only vaguely remember. He lived in Peterhead and spoke broad Scots. You can't exactly translate Scots to English.
Fisherfolk statues in Stornoway; the Peterhead drifters fished seasonally from Stornoway.
Beautiful memorial reflection, David. Please know that millions of us in America are mourning the death of Queen Elizabeth. There will never be another one like her. May we all celebrate her life lived in service of and love for her country.
ReplyDeleteThank you; and she served her King (and ours) too.
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