Image result for scotland rowan tree

I was given the country Scotland at random. I promise. I wrote a poem about it, but then it modified itself. The story called Sacrifice is what came out. Below is the original poem.

In Scotland, I am asleep and there are winds blowing
Light and time and rock and star
Although I’ve not yet seen that far
The hope to see has my fingertips glowing

In Scotland, I have knots woven around me
Over and through my viscous heart
Only miles keep me apart
I’ll stand upon a hill with the stone shores about me

In Scotland, I am no more and not yet
A beautiful implosion of hope and complexity
My dream shifts, soundless, entering and exiting
This changing concept of a “someday” bet

In Scotland, I wonder if I am allowed this dream
The world has pulled off one of its many faces
Ethnicity is the public secret of races
And my beautiful brown may not beauty to them be