The Cold Atlantic (Clearances) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

The cold Atlantic wallows to and fro
Its passing rattle sucks each broken shell
How many heard the heartbreak order Go?

Driven towards a land they did not know
Behind them, crofts where rooftrees burnt and fell
Terrified families dispossessed, just so

A landlord’s profits, flocks of sheep, could grow
In scales of honour, was it right to sell
A clan, a people’s birthplace? Like a foe

To turn whole families out into the snow?
And that my friend was genocide, a hell
As callous as the rapine of Glencoe

A dowie crossing, painful tidal flow
A poisonous parting and a forced farewell,
Where avarice brought down the hammer blow

Off the Atlantic, feel the chill air blow.
Its waves still whispering, of what befell
Those stranded on the shore, too poor to go
Like sand grown black with stranded mackerel