drioftadh / drifting


if I could be anywhere

I’d be bare, foot

sinking in soft selkie sand. cool surround

calm mingling. lying shore still on childhood down.

north sea roaring rolling over — me

gazing at night sky overhead. a star

with no name yet — shooting across. lighting the way,

offering hope. winking. me

assimilated in breeze, contemplating drifting,

driftwood underfoot.

gull soaring through ages, times past horizons.

the rise & fall of fishing boats,

on silver seas.

the vastness

of our — lost connections.



aig toiseach-tòiseachaidh / in the beginning


my father reached out.

spoke to me in the instant

before death,

lost inside the earth cores deepest

sleep. held inside the silent

mountain, i held his

hand. sing out. life is all

reaching, if you’re doing.

falling, failing,

getting up. living in the

joy & inside the saddest river.

life is present, being.

inside life’s pain

we stretch to live, all trying,

lost within the dying & the ends.

mute swans sing out

in their dying moments.

a story told in days, reaching

into tomorrow, carried on

from otherworlds,

upon the backs of birds who travel

in between the song of sound. the song the

living cannot hear unless we dream.

birds speak & understand the minds of man.

we have travelled together,

watching inside darkened

centuries of history in

muted communication,shaping time,as

shifting sound. listen. the dreaming

understand the song of death,

the journey into the screaming universe.

the shifting shore where our first words

were song,

held within the blink of

night hawk eye. swans sing inside

their joy to die, they

call out to the darkness that sings to

them. i heard my father

in his dying breath. his song of loss, speaking forgiveness, a song

of pain. the messenger walks

between the sound of worlds, he

whispers, listen. know in recognition,

the going home, the roaring dawn ahead. the end is the voice of understanding.

©kbain2018.All Rights Reserved.

òran / song


do you have to know  

a language,to understand

a song.heartache in the loss.   

sadness inside melancholy.

love,within the light,

reverberates. nature’s echo  

ripples over the landscape 

of unspoken trace memory. 

inside each raindrop life’s river

runs.the stag hears below

the heather.below the ground.

below all sound.blood pumps

within everything.inside every

flower that blooms — shoots — 

the newborn song of life.

©Copyright Karen Bain 2017.All Rights Reserved.

Loidhneachan / Lines


Lines drawn, connecting
landscape to a people.
lines connecting people to themselves.
linear visible imprints, hard, distinct
Crafted on aged stone.
granite hewed from a Living past,
from known surroundings.
touched & shaped by cultured hands,
Inclusive of a language & of a people.
a vibrant landscape,
known by time past,
and the blowing singing ga[e]l[e]
unknown to us now,
a forgotten song.
the people of our land
immortal seeds,
Planted firmly in fertile ground.


©Karen Bain 2016.All Rights Reserved