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Poetry and Prose

September 17, 2014

When I pick up the pencil
For tomorrow’s vote,
My hand may shake
Under the weight of history
And expectation.
Voices, now still, will echo again,
And promises will resonate.

The fingers of my mind
Will reach and touch
My grandad’s earth from Drumnafaughnan’s fields,
My uncle’s blood and mud from Arras,
My dad’s calculations at the grocer’s till,
My mother’s twenties in Liverpool’s Blitz.
The lives of family in Ireland, and France, and America,
In Viet Nam and England.
All those who helped me see
That caring for those who need it
Is the purpose of Faith.

I’ll wave no flags, and score no Party points,
I will not ask what’s in this choice for me,
No negatives will taint this perfect moment,
In looking forward, I’ll raise my vision high.

Where we have been has brought us to this point –
And now the future calls us all to build
A better way, a listening land,
A nation fair to all.
A Scotland free to give support
To good not evil, bairns not bombs,
And people before profit.

My hand may shake
But my mark will be quite clear.
I’ll vote for Scotland’s people and their future,
To give my son
A hope filled path,
A legacy of light,
Of neighbourhood, community,
And love.

I’ll celebrate the fact
That a shaking hand
That has so much to carry,
Can still stretch out
And clasp the chance of hope

One Comment leave one →
  1. September 17, 2014 4:21 pm

    In ‘one’ word Sean…..YES :o)

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