–Hiraeth– An original poem by me The way she haunts my memory, I know she doesn’t belong… in this century, at least her raven hair like a sweet, summer turned socially unaccepted for her time they watched her burn hang and cry until the fire went out, and without a doubt She was the one in control She choked through tears and wailed with fear but, this one small thing, she made everybody hear “didn’t you know real witches don’t burn” They Learned And listened screamed and shouted Until little by little, their world slowly shattered gasps ran out through the crowd like a dulcet satisfactory chime It was sweet, to know that this girl was mine But to know that it’s a crime is the sour, foul taste of words unspoken As I ran up to my love the words, slowly, turned sweet people stared, glared Their great governing glares made sweat trickle down the back of my neck i grabbed her hand and They Learned And listened screamed Such things were unheard of, But we were simply learning to love And in that, bittersweet moment I desperately wanted something different A world that would accept us for who we are And not who we were meant to be But that fantasy Was simply not what they want to see Her and me, was nothing but a simple plea. I push back the tears welling up in my eyes swallow the urge that I have to cry I propelled her forward They glared and forewarned I didn’t listen of course But I wouldn’t remorse Their faces were nothing but lost souls misguided on their journey They could never earn me Not my respect, my pride, my fear, unless They Learned And listened At last we left the crowd of brainless pigs Surrounded by fresh air Outside of the limits of the prison we call home I can finally leave Be in piece With my love, the pressure will decease And we hope They Learned They pressured us Until we ran away to a world we could never come back to, and embraced the feeling of hiraeth
Hiraeth is a Welsh word with no direct English translation. It describes a deep, poignant longing or homesickness for a home, time, or place that is lost, irretrievable, or may never have truly existed. It blends nostalgia with a bittersweet grief for the past. Hi everyone, this poem was made for one of my writing classes, but i thought id share it with you. It takes place during the Salem witch trials and follows two lesbian lovers through their journey with sorrow, love, and a loss for a place they feel safe and can call home.
