Hiraeth

Beautiful Sunrise in the Mountains

 

Sun-dyed clouds caress the peaks,
Holy vapored hands stretch close
And pull— fearful and unworthy— back,
With beauty dazzled, they return.
Coy shadow plays tides with light
Ebb and flow of circling time
Held fast against my trembling heart.
Stars ballet across night’s deeps
While silent lakes keep step
And breath, once taken quite away,
Is thrown willingly on high.
Stretched barrens rolling to the edge
Where arias of silent snows are sung.
Acrobats of cloud cavort where lupines roam
And thigh-rubbed thunder shouts for joy
Strobed with searing purple heat.
For skittering chattering us
A flood of sliced and captured time.
For Her, Earth, mother of us all,
The slow and measured beat of molten heart.
Carve me thin, beauty undeserved, my own heart laid bare
To seek and see the naked glorious wonder,
Soul embracing hiraeth for home I never had.

[September 2, 2014. Wyoming, the home my heart longs for]

About suzanawylie

Suzana Wylie is the not-very-pseudo pseudonym of Susan Wylie Wilson, because let's face it, there are lots of Susan Wilsons around, and as an author, I want readers to find ME and not the bazillions of others. I've been writing all my life - since I learned to hold a pencil anyway - and can't NOT write. Other people have to breathe to live; I have to write.
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