Rebel Islander

By Sarah MacKinnon, @@

The city offers work, a step up the ladder, a social life, and a wealth of distractions.
It is a place of opportunity and corporate interactions.
Millennials are told and told again.
I, on the other hand, rebelled.
I didn’t want to ‘get ahead’,
To commute, to pollute, to consume, to be subsumed by the noise, the want, and the desire.
A future of -
‘just another year renting’
‘just another year sharing’
‘just another year of a house that is not a home’
‘just another place that I will never belong’


A future I would not, could not, endure.
Instead, I moved to a rock in the middle of the ocean:
One school, three shops, and only recently broadband.
My world is small, slow, and self-contained.
Ten miles long and five miles wide is the extent of my life.
I am known here: I am a neighbour, an incomer, a wife. 


Where ambition and aspiration once lived now contentment and creativity reside.
Work is work and home is home, not just for me but everyone.
Beaches, bays, bogs, hills, and heather whose colours change constantly with the weather.
Not all mine to own, but freedom, sweet freedom, the right to roam.
Like those Raiders who long ago had to fight the system for a home.
My island is mine, part of my soul: M’Alba, m’eilean, mo dhachaigh, mo ghaoil.


defiance, community, personal rebellion