When The Void becomes The Longing

That longing which makes me write will be always there, because my longing is for the home I never had when I needed it most. I do believe that our memories shape us and maybe that’s what happened with me; that emptiness which I held since my childhood quietly became that void which sucked me in, till I realised I had to pull myself together. My sadness made me a poet.

I know that home I left behind will forever haunt me. Maybe that’s why I keep clinging to colours and dreams. Maybe that’s why I write poems and try to fill that void by being there.

sharing the stories submitted by our writers for the Friday Edition

Endless Shade of Blue by Iva Hotko

Political Announcement by Suntonu Bhadra

All that Jazz by James G Brennan