31/05/2026
We met Carrie the other day following her family tree which has led her to my family in Ardnamonie for some help.
To cut a long story short she has written this poem which captures our islands so well and has allowed me to share it with you all
If you share please highlight that she is the author. Now enjoy….
———————————————-
Where the wild machair grows
My blood is in this land, you know.
Generations of sweat and strife.
A place where people always wave,
with fierce hearts, they live though life.
Salty sand whips skyward here,
with grit that fills your teeth.
Soft moss and fuzzy lichen sprawl,
while peat bogs lie beneath.
Corncrakes make their raspy call,
because nature chose to stay.
The wind it blows and blows… and blows,
keeping those pesky midges away.
When the sun decides to show itself,
it lands with a different light.
Sweeping the craggy hills like a halo,
and highlighting all of their might.
The graves, they sit beside the sea.
It twinkles because it knows:
There’s no better place to be laid to rest,
than where the wild machair grows.
This land is in my blood, you know.
Its stories tingle through my skin.
It calls to me, so quietly,
saying ‘fàilte… you are our kin’.
By Caroline Petitt
Copyright Carrie Petitt
