The Tradition Poem by Kathleen Jamie
The Tradition
For years I wandered hill and moor
Half looking for the road
Winding into fairyland
Where that blacksmith kept a forge
Who'd heat red hot the dragging links
That bound me to the past,
Then, with one almighty hammer-blow
Unfetter me at last.
Older now, I know nor fee
Nor anvil breaks those chains
And the wild ways we think we walk
Just bring us here again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/28/2026 7:07:27 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
