By Sirjana Kaur
the only word that is
known is sorry. undoing the language
once swallowed in search of a word that
means what it is supposed to. when it is
not found, it is choked down, and another
is found to fill the space. the next
best thing. in this language, what is left
behind stays behind.
there is still a hope for
some other destiny: a future in which
the self is a sort of home. climbing
into smaller spaces with swollen ankles.
in the mornings, light is a sacred erasure.
the tea is made, the motions followed,
this ritual before every leaving, and then
the door is closed.
the truth is the act of being is a
promise that is never understood, but kept
nevertheless. the last words waiting: still
standing behind, hoping it isn’t yet
time to leave. as if that hesitation by the door is not
a betrayal of self in itself. as if it is not still
sacred, as every loss is.
there is the hurt that is
blinded by itself and smothered
by the self. there are the words made
to bear it. there are the adjectives, erased:
a noun is the only marker of the close,
but there are never enough.
Sirjana Kaur is an Indian-American poet living in the suburbs of Seattle, Washington with her
three younger siblings. She is passionate about all things language and is always on the lookout
for fun word games (the Waffle is one of her favorites). Outside of school, she devotes her time
to helping organize spelling bees, tutoring in language arts, and creating word puzzles at
@mightywordschannel (on TikTok, Instagram, YouTube, and Facebook). Her work is
forthcoming in Eunoia Review.
Hot Pot Magazine 