Dalriada

Outcrop of skull on the thin headland,

the seas pulsed with song,

communication that was a scar,

overstretched.

Rough hide of the coracle

containing men intent,

skin of the animal which covers the boat

still responsive in the sea,

an afterlife and spirit mission.

Surely, later, it was saints that saved them,

this settlement of scavengers

over from the homeland.

House on a hill that was a fort,

was where smiths won renown

better than battle,

forging tongue to this place.

Amphorae and ideas far sea sent,

greetings from Constantinople and Gaul.

Ireland’s second shore, a boast,

but living was thin as ribcages attest.

How to convince a sullen landscape

that you have won it?

Archipelago, spinal coast,

thin thread that no one

might have thought

would make a nation one day.

Picts came and did their worst

in the art of slaughter,

but they did not desecrate the place.

Horse-Lords, in the haar, who were here before,

the tribe rides the settlers’ backs.