From the heavens she fell,
But her downfall seemed to carry all from above with her.
Her hair was like lustrous coils of black gold.
Her eyes sparked like lightning in a thunderous storm,
Her nose shaped with craftiness as my arrow.
Her lips are as heavy as the words from my heart,
Her name never sounded real, as if it didn't hold an alphabet,
Yet its depth held the oceans .
Her skin was an embodiment of the earth.
Was she mother nature?, I asked myself .
Was she the one to cause down pours of rain when she cried?
Was she the one to cloth the buds of the field with her smile?
Was from her bosoms the anchor of mighty oaks and gentle grass?
Was the shades in her skin what God used to colour the sunset?
Was her eyes the reason stars existed?
Was her lips what sweetened honey?
Was her hips the plains on which proud stallions galloped on ?
Was she?, I asked myself.
She was oblivious to all,
She was only bathing.
Immersing and emerging in the waters that drew from the mountains.
She seemed at peace,
Her nonchalance was the completion of the master piece.
She joined heaven and earth at once !
I couldn't help but ask myself again...
Who is she?
YOU ARE READING
Hiraeth
PoetryA man of distress, With eyes denied of sleep at night. Yet his mind wanders dreaming in the day. Such a cycle driven by a deep longing, a hunger, and love for a woman. Hence, a compilation of his persistent and intrusive thoughts of her... His Hira...
