Sons of Sutherland

Seeing the blood in my veins
I remember the darkest hour
The seven Sons of the Sutherland
Disowned by their own land

The beleaguered fate,
The only  stellar they confide 
With the oat bread and grimes 
voyaged towards what they were destine

Remembering the annihilation of their dreams
By the Parish and High Clearances
Marching towards the Southern Sea 
Lamenting for the pain to the almighty.

Ruins of their soul
Scattered in that dark terrain
Reaching the green pastures
Fortified the destinies on this Prairie land

Dawned the days of dark sun
The Fiend crusaders with their guns
Razed the den and the cattle dwellings
With no armour the sons were dying.

Being the descendant of the only survivor
The specter of my fathers still beguiled my eyes
Seeing the blood in my veins
I remember the bloodshed on that dreadful day

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A strong and powerful story in the poem. I like the way you told this story in your poem. In this short poem you told a history of a family name "Sutherland". I like the very good ending to a excellent poem. Thank you.
Coyote