Pride of the North

I.

The leaping flames of life and passion are burning in the ever watchful windows of our North Atlantic homes.

They dance merrily to the rhythmic pulse of the great Ocean drum that beats in time to the beat of our hearts.

What has kept us here so long? What sweet, gentle breeze has stirred the burning coals of a New Englander’s soul?

It was a hope, a dream that drove us to beat our path through the thick Northern forests that lace the icy coast.

It was our God Who so masterfully drew the unseen road across the long, unconquerable terrain.

II.

Èist! Èist! She is calling your name, very softly, She calls upon th’ eternal wire that transcends time and space:

“Then, you were born here; and now, you must return. Till ri mi, O h-anam caillte! Return to me, O lost soul!”

In silence, She is heard and understood upon the wings of the North Wind, in a whisper, a cry, a song.

She entices with the rime upon the autumnal cloak of the forest, and gathers in with iced kisses.

Answer her call and follow her words ‘cross glen and brae, ‘cross hill and valley, till you reach your eternal home!

III.

The chips upon the fire pit crackle and sing and send up dancing embers like sprites upon a playful breeze.

These are the never-dying spirits of the souls of the North, young golden ships that sail the merciless seas.

Think us not poor nor cold nor wretched; for we are rich in life, warm in heart, and blessed in love and in spirit.

The land is not barren, and the sea gives us our bounty. We shall never be want from hunger or from thirst.

We are happy and proud. This is the country of the mighty, brave, and free. It is good for us to be here.

Author's Note

"Eist" is Scottish Gaelic for "listen". And the translation for "Till ri mi, O h-anam caillte" comes right after it.