Sehnsucht, Diaspora, or Whatever This Is
A few summers have since passed
A few too many, or a few too little –
How does it matter?
I shall grow as I shall wither.
I shall forget as I shall remember
your face — it turns to a stranger.
I shall hold you as you once held me cradled,
and say goodbye over and over.
I shall proclaim these treacherous waters
easier to breathe than suffocating borders.
And so, I shall smell no more mogra flowers
nor listen for the koyal's hollers.
Especially the scent of my grandmother's shawl –
I shan't recall. I shan't recall.
A few summers have since passed
My blood turned strange — your flesh a stranger
I smile, I frown, I laugh –
But how does it matter?
Written by
Ravgun Kaur
There is no stronger honor for me than being able to refer to myself as a writer. I would define my writing process as both — experimental and comforting — two extremes blended together to discover and create something new each time.
I seek to write when I crave comfort, yet I strive to try something new each time I write. With an insatiable curiosity for new genres, artworks, and ideas, I mostly compose poetry, short stories, and articles through the lens of literary criticism — since my creative and academic passions are deeply intertwined as a Masters student of Literary and Cultural studies.
