Somewhere deep inside me
Is a longing for a place I never was
In a time I’ve never been
In a home I never had.
There is a feeling that belongs
To a person I never occupied.
There is a dream that is
More real than any reality.
It is a bird that flies through the
Night and can never land,
Whose home is my breast.
Hiraeth
Mike Stone
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 03/25/2023
Poet's note: August 16, 2022. "Hiraeth" is a Welsh word that has no single corresponding word in English, a homesickness tinged with grief and sadness. I wanted to add another dimension to the word to suggest a nostalgia for someone or something that never was and possibly never will be. I had no one besides myself to whom to write this poem. Although I wrote it last year, I've felt it since I was in my twenties (now I'm seventy-six) but never had a name for it.
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Poem topics: dream, night, time, bird, deep, real, place, person, reality, home, never, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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