Welsh singer/songwriter Jasmine Power channels the untranslatable ache of ‘hiraeth’ into radiant forward motion on “Leap,” a dreamy, life-affirming single about leaving home, honoring what you carry with you, and choosing joy even when the next step feels uncertain.

Stream: “LEAP” – Jasmine Power

My hope is that ‘Leap’ can inspire people to step into their joy, their dreams, and fulfill their truest purpose in life – to leave all fears, trauma, and sorrow behind just for a moment and take that leap of faith. We humans are meant to shine our lights as bright as possible!

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The Welsh word “hiraeth” has no direct translation into English.

It’s essentially a deep, aching longing for a home, a time, or a version of yourself that may no longer exist, or may never have existed at all. It’s a feeling rooted in memory and motion at once: The pull backward, and the urge forward, braided together. That tension sits at the heart of “Leap,” Jasmine Power’s luminous new single – a song that holds longing gently while still daring to move through it.

Dreamy and dramatic, bold without being brash, “Leap” feels like a deep breath taken at the edge of something new – alive with motion, warmth, and the certainty that forward is the only way through. It shimmers with possibility, letting the light in not as spectacle, but as necessity: A life-affirming reminder that renewal often begins the moment we choose to trust ourselves.

Sometimes I wonder
how to do this now
when you stopped me in my tracks I found
all those years of independence drown.
Sometimes I wish
that you could come with me
to see the woman of your dreams
taking on this brand new town

But I have to go
I have so much to say
kiss me goodbye
When I step on that train

Atwood Magazine is proud to be premiering “Leap,” the invigorating new single from Welsh singer, pianist, and songwriter Jasmine Power, out January 23. Written and produced in Nashville with Stephen Leiweke, the song arrives as a radiant statement of belief – in movement, in imagination, and in the enduring power of choosing yourself even when the outcome isn’t guaranteed.

Power’s journey is deeply woven into the fabric of “Leap.”

Raised in rural Pembrokeshire, Wales, she grew up writing songs at the piano and by the window, watching the natural world’s ebb and flow outside – dreaming, even then, of sharing her music with the world. That sense of possibility, once imaginary, became a guiding force as her path carried her from Wales to London, New York, and Nashville, where she honed her voice as both an artist and a professional songwriter.

“As a young girl growing up in Wales, I would compose songs at the piano and on the windowsill overlooking the waves crash against the Welsh clifftops and dream of the day I would share them with the world,” Power reflects. “At the time, it was all imaginary but I held this deep belief that it was perfectly possible.”

That belief – fragile, persistent, and softly radical – is the emotional engine of “Leap.” “I went from the middle of nowhere to London, New York, and Nashville, and life has taught me that if you have a burning desire within to do something that feels important to you, listen to that and ‘take the leap!’” she smiles. Co-written with Leiweke in Nashville in 2019, the song came together in a single, instinctive burst. “It was written in 40 minutes and it gave us both goosebumps!”

From its opening lines, “Leap” situates itself in motion.

The song begins not with arrival, but with interruption – a life mid-stride, suddenly confronted with change: “Sometimes I wonder how to do this now / when you stopped me in my tracks I found / all those years of independence drown.” It’s a subtly devastating moment – the recognition that independence, once hard-won, can suddenly feel fragile. Power captures that disorientation with remarkable tenderness, voicing the fear of losing momentum even as the world insists on moving forward. There’s no melodrama here, only honesty: The ache of standing still while everything else shifts.

That tension deepens as the verse unfolds, filled with images of departure and self-reinvention. Train stations, goodbyes, and the weight of what’s left unsaid hover just beneath the surface. When she sings, “kiss me goodbye when I step on that train,” her words land not as a grand farewell, but as an intimate plea – a moment suspended between attachment and release. It’s hiraeth in real time: Loving where you come from while still knowing you have to go.

I’ll make you proud
leap off the ground out there
I’ll sing to crowds
I’ll make it loud so you can hear
I’ll run around just
like a dancing chair
walk with my heart
until I start to wear and tear
then I’ll come home
to all the little things we have
back to our land

The chorus rushes in like a release valve. Suddenly, the song lifts – emotionally and musically – as Power voices the promise that carries her forward: “I’ll make you proud / leap off the ground out there.” It’s both vow and affirmation, spoken outward but rooted inward. The melody opens up, the rhythm loosens, and the song begins to move with confidence, echoing the act it encourages. This isn’t blind optimism; it’s courage earned through fear, joy discovered through motion.

Musically, “Leap” mirrors that emotional ascent. Power’s voice carries a warmth that feels both intimate and expansive, grounded at the start before gradually opening outward as the song unfolds. The arrangement – bright, driving pianos and bold, pulsing drums – moves with her, while occasional electric guitar licks flicker through the mix and soft pads bloom in the background, adding a sense of cinematic depth and space. Restrained at first, then increasingly buoyant, the song allows room for motion, release, and light to enter naturally. Nothing feels rushed; “Leap” trusts its own momentum, just as it asks the listener to trust theirs.

What makes “Leap” feel so alive is how fully it inhabits that push-and-pull.

Even in its most buoyant moments, the song never forgets what’s at stake. Power sings of running, dancing, wearing herself thin – “walk with my heart until I start to wear and tear” – acknowledging that pursuing a dream comes with cost. Yet the song never frames that cost as regret. Instead, it becomes part of the exchange: leave something behind, gain something truer.

As the track circles back to the idea of home – “then I’ll come home to all the little things we have / back to our land” – “Leap” reveals its emotional core. Home isn’t abandoned; it’s carried. The longing remains, but it no longer paralyzes. Instead, it fuels the journey, transforming hiraeth from a static ache into a living, breathing force that propels the song forward.

These days have been a little harder than
the ones when I was super young
now I’m all dressed up in fear.
They say, keep on going while you can
throw off your clothes and take a chance
there’s only one life for us to play

But I have to go
I have so much to say
kiss me goodbye
when I step on that train

In this way, “Leap” doesn’t just encourage movement – it embodies it. The song dances through fear, through grief, through longing, and comes out lighter on the other side. It reminds us that stepping forward doesn’t mean letting go of who we were. Sometimes, it means honoring that version of ourselves enough to keep going.

I’ll make you proud
leap off the ground out there
I’ll sing to crowds
I’ll make it loud so you can hear
I’ll run around just like a dancing chair
walk with my heart
until I start to wear and tear
then I’ll come home
to all the little things we have
back to our land

Over time, the song’s meaning has shifted and deepened alongside Power herself.

In the midst of personal grief and the isolation of the pandemic, “Leap” became something Power returned to not as a memory, but as a lifeline. “It’s a song that even in the darkest of times has uplifted me,” she shares. “Whilst experiencing tremendous grief, I played ‘Leap’ one day and immediately started dancing! It was mid-pandemic, but in that very moment I realised that I had to return to Nashville, the homeland of song, and continue to pursue my dreams.”

That moment of movement – choosing joy, choosing motion, choosing faith – is what gives “Leap” its unmistakable light. Though steeped in hiraeth, the song never lingers in sorrow. Instead, it transforms longing into propulsion, inviting listeners to step forward with courage and grace. “I believe that inspiring people is one of the best gifts we can offer in life. My hope is that ‘Leap’ can inspire people to step into their joy, their dreams and fulfill their truest purpose in life,” Power says. “To leave all fears, trauma and sorrow behind just for a moment and take that leap of faith. We humans are meant to shine our lights as bright as possible!”

Even as it reaches outward, “Leap” remains tethered to Wales – not just as a place, but as an emotional compass, the source of its hiraeth: A longing that doesn’t disappear with distance, but travels with you, shaping where you go next. In “Leap,” Jasmine Power doesn’t deny the ache of leaving, or the weight of what’s been lost. She simply reminds us that longing and hope can coexist – and that sometimes, the bravest thing we can do is let the light in, trust the motion, and take the leap anyway.

But I have to go
I have so much to say
Kiss me goodbye
when I step on that train

I’ll make you proud
leap off the ground out there
I’ll sing to crowds
I’ll make it loud so you can hear
I’ll run around just like a dancing chair
walk with my heart
until I start to wear and tear
then I’ll come home
to all the little things we have
back to your arms

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Stream: “LEAP” – Jasmine Power

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