A poem about Hireath

Hireath is a Welsh word that is defined as follows: (n) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past. 

Sometimes when I have writer's block I will search for Old English words on the internet. I'll mindlessly scroll through until one sparks an ember of inspiration and this one I felt on a spiritual level. Though the place I long for isn't one of a physical nature, it is more of a homesickness for a state of purity and naivety that was taken from me at such an early age. 

Hireath, a bittersweet ache,
For a home lost, a dream I make. 
In distant memories, I find solace,
Yearning for a place I can't embrace.

Whispering winds carry echos of the past,
Nostalgia's dance, with a monster unmasked. 
Through tears & smiles, I reminisce
Hiraeth's embrace, a grandmother's kiss.

Though time may pass, and worlds may change,
Hiraeth's fire, forever fueled by Melencholia's rage. 
In my heart, a longing remains,
Grief for a home burned by a child's blood stains. 

That last line is harsh and beautiful, I have a political poem in progress about the murder of innocent children in Gaza. Do poets reuse lines, I feel like the line is fitting in both this poem and the one I am currently working on. I have more that I could add to this, I could go into the emotions or details behind my words, but I chose to keep that to myself. Interpret how you will, art is subjective. 

Humbly yours,

Vanessa