It has been a long time in gestation,
that thought of economic and social parity,
over what is likely to be a notional border.
I used to hear the stereotype taunts,
especially when I was young and on the few occasions
when I was near a deep southern voice.
The talk of self determination is all well and good,
supposedly sound politics, from qualified mouths,
paid advisors and clever, slick spin.
History is evoked, 1314 a good starting point,
a morally deluded opposition party the perfect foil.
Emotions are stirred with the skirl o' the pipes,
the inventors and thinkers,
evangelists of The Enlightenment,
philanthropists who bought and sold America.
Burns as the national bard.
Returning there, I see the self same people,
old friends, family, living the same lives,
the lives they were always living.
They are just as pissed off as me,
although I'm registered to vote in a different land,
a land connected to theirs.
I have little in common with a Highland xenophobe,
or Braveheart Brigadoon-shire dweller,
my reality is hard wired to reason.
I refuse to fly colours, Saltires, or sign up
to patriotism for its own sake,
patriotism as hubris.
I am, like you are, an accident of birth.
I might as well be a Burkina Faso nationalist
in the wake of deluded separatists.
I refuse to acknowledge these boundaries
These fools should listen to the bard,
we are all under the one sun, one world spinning
at the same speed
remember that as you raise your malts
on certain saints' days