I always looked out at the world,
And wondered if the world looked back at me,
Standing on the edge of something,
On my face – the wind from the cold sea.
Across the waters were mirrors to see
Faces that looked like me,
People caught between two places,
People crossing over the seas.
And it seemed from my croft
-With the old stones and the sheep,
And the sound of the songs in my sleep-
That the music of folk somewhere meets
On the edge of the place we would be.
I’ve lived through some hard times.
My face is lined; my body so frail.
I used to think I might be able –
When the river ran to meet the sea,
When the sun and moon shared the sky-
To look out as far as the eye could see,
And raise a glass to the girl looking back at me.