On Stob Coire a'Chearcaill
We have followed orchestrated funerals and cried
Behind empty coffins with the truth cast aside.
Now the wake is over, we know they’ve never died.
Bundled up behind clouds fumbled in a circle,
Rumbling over the snow on Stob Coire a'Chearcaill,
Here comes alive and well the voice of your people.
It’s the voice of the Gaels, with stories, tunes and tales.
Listen, the silent bells are ringing through the hail,
Hear the surge of the sea behind this human swell.
And the Ocean thunders up the loch’s meanders,
From the sands of a bay waves drench your heart in spray.
It’s the voice of the Gaels, they are alive and well.
Turn to the mountainside where names forever dwell.
No need to flee and hide like the old Book of Kells.
I heard you sing their words. With silent joy I cried.
Sarah Yann Fanet
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