The Cry of the Land

The Cry of the Land

In the green hills where the rivers once ran,

A sorrow took root in the heart of the land.

The potato, our staple, so humble and true,

Turned black in the soil, the famine it grew.

The winds whispered grief through the darkened skies,

As mothers wept softly, with tear-filled eyes.

The fields once lush, now barren and dry,

As hunger and death spread a shadow nearby.

The ships set sail with the cries of the lost,

As the Irish fled, no matter the cost.

To distant shores, to a life unknown,

Leaving behind the land they’d once called home.

But in the heart of the soil, there’s a tale to be told,

Of courage and strength, of spirits so bold.

Though famine may come and sorrow may stay,

The soul of the Irish will never decay.

Note This poem reflects on the hardship, and resilience, of the Irish people during the Potato Famine.