Bonnie Scotland
Autumn leaves drift -
Empty boats on a still loch -
Hills of Alba
From a Scream to a Whisper
There is a scream way down deep in my heart and soul. A primitive scream of mourning, anger and pain. A scream that should it erupt would shatter worlds. A scream that if possible would awaken the ancestors and echo into the generations. A scream that would make demons tremble and angels take notice. It is not my scream alone, but a scream of collective force. Fires and floods ravaged the years. War and racial tension shook the earth. Childish leaders oppressed the innocent and child like. The species drained the earth of life and resources. Disease and pestilence attacked the species. 'A pale horse and the one who rides on it is death and hell follows with him.' What can hold back such a scream? In my minds eye I see an empty old rugged cross, an empty tomb, creation groaning in birth pains, hope even in the darkness. In my minds eye the scream becomes a whisper, "Be still all peoples, be still creation, be ...
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