The Loneliness Of Hestia Poem by Georgia Hindmarch

Sitting at the hearth,
There you will find her
Gazing deeply into the flickering flames
Away from the others, in the corner
Unnoticed, but not hiding.

She stays quiet as a mouse as the others
Laugh and drink and joke around,
The shimmering fire reflects tiny dancers
Into the melancholy of her eyes.

She could speak, but she won't
She could laugh, but with who?
She could smile, but no one would see.

The hearth is her only refuge,
The only warmth she's ever known.

Every now and then, her brother
Glances over to see the dazzling fire
Just enough time to check on both of them
Of course it's high and mighty.
As always.

She was both the first and the last
The Original, yet no one wants to know.
Her place is in the darkness of shadows
So that her siblings will see light

The hearth is her only refuge,
The only warmth she's ever known.

But there is no warmth in the fire
Not the kind she yearns for, anyway
It may warm her porcelain skin
But her heart remains untouched
She looks over to the others
And sees the fire in their own hearts

The home may need a hearth,
But the hearth needs a home too.