Hiraeth.

Once a friend told me about the meaning of hiraeth.

the feeling of longing for a home you once knew – she said.

I thought – I knew that feeling all too well.

a longing for a home that exists only in my memories.

In the hidden fissures of my being.

Hiraeth.

The light rays that peeped and fluttered through our white curtains.

The notepad that hung outside for the wonderers by.

Once the note read – “I came over. No one was home.

So I climbed the roof and went inside.”

My mother’s little brother.

It was the safety of white walls with no alarms or bells.

Relying on the bucbuck’s and buckbuckaa‘s of our chickens outside.

and yet,

hiraeth.

the feeling of you wrapped around me in the winter nights

our bodies entangled, losing the edges of you and I

the soft light streaming through the white curtains –

a reflection of the home that once was.