Skye Lament

My love, he has left you now
To wear the hawthorn's acquiescence.
Bent and bowed before life
Its betrayals salt the ears and eyes
Take a swig from another's lips.

The Camasunary flower could not live.
Poisoned at the touch of younger skin
Made magic, your envy complete.

At the beach every stone screams
Its curse, condemns you to wear
The mask of the Medusa.
Revenge roars around Scavaig.
The day will not flinch
Till his boat is balsa wood
In the jaws of the Minch.

And the red screes tumble
Cries of your dying child
These three weeks free of the womb
Ringing clear in the peaty glow
Of Coruisk's lochan tomb.