In this second piece from The Hunterian Museum Poems, Aonghas MacNeacail imaginatively enters the world of the mysterious Picts, who left no written records but are deeply embedded in the history and mythology of Scotland.

The poet prefers to write without punctuation marks or capital letters!

I AM A PICT

i am a pict

though it’s long since the origin 

that gave life to

my ode and my journey 

~

and though it was through stone

you were required to meet me,

my being won’t be blacked out

~

though my tongue’s vigour was stifled,

my grammar set under a lasting mask,

till a song could not be heard from me

nor was there debate on lips –

don’t think i am excluded from

the deep artery of your history

~

for though i was left dumb,

you may count me among your ancestors,

the gene is still travelling

in the darkness of your veins

~

but there was artistry in the fingers

that gave fine carving to my form

with the desire that i be no shadow 

~

it is said that i am fortuna

~

and in giving shape to

my memory, sculptor,

you built a radiant fortress for my

story, you gave me the reward

~

my mystery feeding your wish

that i should be a queen

                                        to the eye