Poem By Deborah Wilkie

What happened to that promised citizen fame?
What dulled that bright ambition
That spirit of our nation’s name?
What made you write it out so easy?
What changed your point of view?
What made you shuck your conscience?
What made you damn your roots to hell?

Was it so wild and scary
To let them enter the fray?
Those voices oft unheard and wary,
Expressing raw, untamed dismay – or praise.
Did they plough an unknown furrow?
Sowing hybrid seeds of doubt on ordered, set out plans of passage?
Unwelcome ripples – shut them out!

But locked within a golden cage,
Of promises that bound, not freed….
The strength that lies within our people,
Kept it supine - in malaise.

And now we move on – leaving behind
Those fine ideals - that brightness of mind
That made the distinctiveness
So much admired by visiting pilgrims
Come to aspire
To a vision envied – dynamic – far-thinking
But now eschewed by those who say that they listen

But listeners not listening….

So that brightness is tarnished
Its verdigris blooms
Was it seen as a threat - an incursion of sorts?
On traditions too ingrained as yet to
Let us breathe free, embrace the new.
Despite those brave words at century new
Do we quail before reality of traditions reborn?
That lead us to feel – suborned?

But so sad…. that we cannot reject that illusion
Our fears of submersion of known – ironically bearing out
That oft-vaunted Scots’ fault – ‘half empty – no’ half fu’ ‘
Displayed in full flight
Distilling potential, dimming light.

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