It feels like going home

Today I am sailing to Scotland, to visit my son in Edinburgh.  I wrote this poem on the ferry crossing as I saw Scotland’s shore come into view.  I hope you enjoy it.

A land not unlike my own,
Is appearing though the sea mist,
With high hills of rock and stone,
Where my forefathers past exist.

This Scotland from whenst they sailed,
To Ireland to make their fortune,
Where the Irish Earls had fled,
For most, not a moment to soon.

As they sailed, what were their thoughts?
What was the substance of their dreams?
What was the life that they sought?
A life that was yet unseen.

The Christian faith that they carried,
That brave Reformers had died for,
Uplifted hands that had tarried,
To Christ, their only Councillor.

On Scotlands hills now I stand,
This place where my ancestor’s lived,
For this is my families homeland,
Today in their footsteps I tread.