A Poem for my ancestral land
Eire, the island of Ireland
With its contorted yet
Beautiful face, as pretty
as a glint in a child’s eye.
Our eternal flame and lust for freedom.
Stares out defiantly over the lands beyond the pale, for almost a millennia. Our people at home and abroad have fought for our land with the fire, fury and passion that only a thousand years of pain and oppression can give to a people.
Our children are spread to all four corners of this globe, taking Eire with them in their suitcases and their souls.
I, myself and the world would not be the same without our ancestors, our Ireland, our Eire
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