27/01/2025
🌪️ Éowyn, the Storm Queen 🌪️
She came in the night, a shadow crowned,
Éowyn, the warrior, storm unbound.
Her cloak of clouds, her sword of gales,
A queen who rides on tempest trails.
With icy breath and thunder’s cry,
She tore through Ireland’s darkened sky.
The western waves became her steed,
A furious march, no cry for heed.
Her voice was wild, her song was dire,
A banshee’s wail, a choir of fire.
The trees bowed low, the earth did quake,
Her wrath was a force no man could break.
She struck the poles, the wires fell,
Her battle hymn a savage knell.
Blades of wind cut roofs from homes,
As Éowyn claimed her kingdom’s bones.
Not born of seas, no hurricane’s art,
But forged where cold and warm air start.
A storm of land, of clash, of force,
Her power charted a deadly course.
Yet in her rage, there burned a grace,
A warrior queen none could face.
Her legend now in whispers spread,
Of Éowyn’s reign, the night of dread.
But Ireland stands, though scarred and worn,
By storms and queens it won’t be torn.
For Éowyn, fierce, though she may reign,
Shall fade, and Ireland will rise again.
