Find Her in the Highlands
She set out across the sea,
When her ancestors whispered "come home."
She thought "something's waiting for me,"
And could feel it in her bones.
Across the moors of Glencoe,
To the top of the Buachaille's rock pile.
The peace in her soul continued to grow,
And she rested there for awhile.
The whispers grew louder as she neared Inverness,
And wept on Culloden Moor.
She felt the weight of the grief and distress,
Of the souls that had passed there before.
In faded script she saw his name,
The Highland weaver who called her home.
John MacKenzie who lit the flame,
That caused her heart to roam.
She faced the north and journeyed on,
Through pastures and ruins desolate.
Over the centuries they stood alone,
Quietly facing the elements.
Their ghostly inhabitants watched her roam,
And granted her safe passage.
Bound forever to those homes,
They sent with her a lonely message.
Don't let them forget us and what we lost,
As time erases the past.
The greed and cruelty and what it cost,
Please help our memories last.
So too was she watched by sheep and by deer,
As she went down the western shores.
They watched as the ferry drew near,
And closed her within its doors.
Across the sea on swift currents,
She was carried to the Outer Isles.
She walked among the ancients ,
As they stood proud in single file.
Back over the sea to Skye's lush green,
Not deterred by winds or rain.
A place unlike any she had ever seen,
And could never truly explain.
Over mountain and glen she would wander,
As the resolve inside her grew.
This homecoming had changed her,
As journeys so often do.
Her new life's path has only begun,
In the land of the haunting pipes.
Her spirit found freedom and is on the run,
Now filled with hope and life.
Her soul belongs to Scotland,
Among the heather and the stone.
You'll find her in the Highlands,
Where her heart has found its home.