Poem # 5 | Hiraeth



It was not nostalgia I felt when I
heard the news, because
I never knew you
though I knew your face
and name,
I knew you came
from Vojvodina though
that wasn’t where you found
your fame.

I knew about
the $50 in your father’s
wallet; of the year 2000
in New York City with only
what you could fit inside
your tiny pockets. And I
see your face behind my
eyelids as both a blonde
and a brunette which is a strange
thing to do of someone
I have never met.

It was almost nostalgia I
felt on Sunday; homesickness
for a place I’d
never visited nor
left behind. I’ll borrow
a word, Hiraeth, as
it’s the closest
definition I can find.