Home, Even After

by Sehajpreet Kaur Lakhyan

I have never crossed a border

with my whole life

zipped inside a suitcase.

Never had to choose between my photographs

and my future.

Never had to teach myself

how to call somewhere else

home.

But I have seen people who did.

And what amazed me was

not their grief.

It was the way they still smiled

while pouring tea.

The way they still braided hair

told stories, held babies,

made jokes.

As if even after winter,

they refused to

forget warmth.

And maybe resilience

doesn’t look heroic.

Maybe it looks like them,

showing up again, and again,

and again.

With cracked hands,

heavy memories,

and a heart that still

makes room for hope.

Because some people do not

wait for spring,

they carry it with them.