The Universe, Tucked Between My Walls
by Bani Kaur
Memories folded like pressed flowers,
tucked away in secret.
This space is mine –
Neither borrowed, nor shared, not measured in relation to anyone.
The wind wakes the flowers gently,
nudging them toward a sun they do not fear.
A wild vine creeps up my walls,
and I do not cut it down.
I tell it to climb higher,
Circle back from Jupiter,
bring me stories from the stars.
The furniture hums with the hands that made it,
chiseled by knowing, steady pride.
A suncatcher plucks threads of the sky,
weaving red, yellow, violet light onto my shelf-
a silent confession from the heavens
about the books I keep.
Three posters, three pieces of me,
The Star for the things I achieve,
The Moon, tides of my feelings,
And The sun for my highest self,
Wind chimes stir like whispered spells,
turning air into music,
solitude into something holy.
Appears in —
This issue is a curation of poems written by the participants of Ayaskala’s Poetry Writing Retreat held in March, 2025.
Self Portrait —
Created during the retreat, this A5 self-portrait is a visual echo of the poet’s inner landscape.
Bani Kaur
Bani is a storyteller and journalist-in-the-making from New Delhi, whose work dances between vulnerability and rebellion. With a heart too wild for silence, she writes about identity, survival, and the unsaid weight women carry in a fractured world. When she’s not unraveling the human psyche through words, you’ll find her chasing mountain skies, brewing strange teas, and questioning everything we call ‘normal.’
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