Chieftain for a coming age

Colin of the treetop
Lashed onto the swaying bough
His banner below him
Alone in his defiance
Calling us to gather, where the roots are.

MacLeod of the hearth fire
Offering heat and a warm cup
Words that burn, words that heal
Deeds that shake the foundation
Of what we knew before

Colin of the native woodland
Oak, robin, fox and tiny flower
Watching, learning, being
They are of our community
We are all of the infinite cycle

MacLeod the warrior
Soldier of truth
Hands raised against him
The knife pierced him
But did not deter him

Colin the carver
Lumps of dead wood
Become soaring eagles
The broken branch
Is a leaping salmon

MacLeod the alchemist
Gobhnus crucible he stirs
Where others see base metal
He sees shining gold
Of the human heart

Colin the rope-worker
Bringing the loose strands together
Spirit, community and the precious earth
Pleated firmly in unity
By a strong gentle hand

MacLeod of the stone
Pounding the unyielding granite
Ancient symbols appear
Icons of the past
Signposts for the coming age

Colin the tiller man
Ploughing the oceans furrows
Planting seeds of hope
A crew blossoms
He is taken from us but still points the way home.

Tam.