Week 14: She, Ireland.

Ireland is balmy, like the ocean
Turbulent
Constantly in motion
And yet still
With the will
Of a woman who has seen some things

Ireland is wild
Untamed
In some ways maimed
Wears roads like angry scars
Jagged across her arms
But she is fierce

Ireland is aching
Making
Sure that you know that
She don’t need no man
Especially not a British one

Ireland is beautiful
In the same way the
Pretty sea can remind you
It is powerful
She is complex
With depth
She’ll remind you she’s constantly evolving

And yes
Maybe she’s a bit stuck
In a rut
Maybe in some ways she is bogged down
In the small town
You can see that she’s been shook
In the look
of the farmer
Who is not sure if he will make it through winter

But Ireland is strong
The roots beneath her soil
are coiled
In a tangled mess that
Cannot be unwound
She is founded
On the strength of a people
Who refused to lie down

So Ireland is hopeful
Strong-willed
She is sure that the sun will
Rise tomorrow
Her windswept shores and
Rocky fields all call
For your respect

Because

Ireland is still here.

 

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