Poem: At Somhairle's Grave

I strove for words I could not find,
to pick the lock, express my mind,
but all I wrote was all in vain,
until I read giftie Maclean.

My thoughts and fears, the tears I'd shed
in voice unknown - already said.
The lonely place but sea and hill,
life's simple truths, love stranger still.

Maclean: the poet I'll never be.
His words yet resonate in me.
You've seen and been, without due fame,
An ceann thall, MacGill-Eain.