Ashes

Our mouths stopped for
One thousandth of a second,
As four hands rose from soiled lake.
A piano played in a glass factory.
 
We burned you into little shells and stars
Melted fingers into perpetual prayer,
Blazed the manuscripts of our library,  
In memoriam, set fire to the psalm breeze.  
 
The grave is a graph of the  
Devil hunter striding the night,
Your shadows upon our shoulders
Lighten the mist of burdens breath.

Mum told me, or I may have dreamt it,
Flowers are the Poetry of Christ.
We placed broken roots in a Hiraeth vase
Waiting for silence to enter each room,
Until then, we nest in an astronaut harbour.
 
Dad tried to build me a star-ship
From Lego and walking sticks,
Never reached the final frontier
Only the edges of childhood dreams.
 
All vision has been inspired by love
Eyes wreathed by mantelpiece memories,
As a flock of hearses:
Another
And then another.
 
We set our souls to the  
Sun rising every morning.
We stopped our hearts,
If only for a moment.  
 
 
Hiraeth is often translated to homesickness but it means a lot more - a longing, yearning, wistfulness, and a nostalgia for the way things once were. It's a place where your soul feels at home.