Hiraeth
written by: Violet Dolui
When I close my eyes in the middle of the day
to let my thoughts flow to a deep, resting place;
a sanctuary when the hurricane blows wild,
an oasis for a traveller weary and worn…
there are photographs blurred and sepia-toned,
memories like paintings framed long ago,
lakes and mountains almost known,
grasslands and prairies that I’ve stepped on…
an ivy-covered cottage in the wilderness,
sounds of crickets, songbirds chirping,
waters gurgling in a stream nearby,
a night sky dancing with stars and fireflies…
there are more flowers than I can count,
sakuras and roses, carnations, marigolds,
oaks broad and wide, spruces and pines,
hedges of bougainvilleas pink and white…
mural-covered walls of stone and clay,
polished floors of warm chestnut wood,
cobalt carpets and yellow cushions,
piles of books and paintbrushes strewn…
and when I wake up with the sun on my face,
zephyrs gently moving the bedroom curtains,
I find strong arms wrapped around my waist,
sleepy eyes, languid smiles, soft melting kisses…
my hiraeth is a sharp-etched dream of a faraway place,
nestled between imaginings of purple twilight,
grey longings, sad echoes and blood-warm sunlight;
the pull of a home that keeps me wandering always…
