Finding what was never lost

It’s almost my birthday. Sharing personal thoughts and a poem.

My birthday is coming in two days, on May 27th, and it’s the first birthday in many years that I’ll be celebrating together with my family. This birthday, I’ll have real photos with my loved ones instead of screenshots from video calls, and what so many take for granted feels like the biggest luxury in the world.

I often wonder what it is like to never have a reason to leave your home and country and never be separated from your family and relatives. What is it like to have all your family belongings that were passed through generations and not only a few suitcases of the most needed things? What is it like to live on your land in peace and not run across the world searching for home? This is something I’ll never know.

This week, a maintenance guy came to Mom’s apartment to fix a few things. He turned out to be a Belarusian who fled to Poland after the protests of 2020, just like my family. As we shared our experiences, he said: “All of us have the same story.” The story of oppression and persecution, the story of building life from zero in a foreign country, the story of not knowing if you ever see your home and family again.

All these years that I lived in the U.S., I was in a never-ending search for home. I longed for my family, the places where I grew up, my culture, and a familiar way of life. With time, I started to learn more about Belarusian culture and history and gradually reconnected to my heritage, which was distorted and erased by Russian colonialism. I still have a lot to learn and rediscover. However, this month, as I came to see my family, I stopped running in circles for the first time. It didn’t matter that I came to Poland instead of Belarus and to a rental apartment instead of my childhood home. I realized that all these years, my home has always been with me — in my heart. I’ve spent so much time searching for it only to find that it was never lost.

I remember

I’ve been searching for home for years.
Trusting my heart to lead the way.
It seems that I finally found it,
but I’m still standing in the doorway.

The house smells so familiar 
that it makes me want to cry.
Past generations whisper 
their stories to my ears.
I close my eyes and listen.
An old tree by the window rustles: 
I remember you. All of you.
Do you remember me?

And suddenly 
I remember walking barefoot in this garden.
I remember birthing children in those rooms.
I remember laughing, praying, and crying.
I notice an old mirror on the wall.
The reflection says: 
I remember you.

I remember running down the road to the river.
I remember making first steps on this porch.
I remember long conversations at dinner.
I remember hard hours of work.

I remember wars, I remember death.
I remember early mornings and the first rays of sun.
I remember hope. I remember love.
I remember being a daughter and being a son.

The old tree hugs me with its branches 
and I finally start to feel my roots.
My heart explodes with a myriad of 
blossoms and new leaves
and I see
that I never lost my home.
It’s always been near.
I look in the mirror and say: 
I remember me.

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My birthday wish is the same as the last two years: complete victory for Ukraine and the end of the war. The best gifts are donations to Ukrainian people who are fighting for all of us. I’ll be happy if you consider making a donation to a Ukrainian charity or volunteer of your choice. I have a donation guide that lists almost a hundred trusted organizations and volunteers. You can view it here: UKRAINE DONATION GUIDE

If you want to congratulate me directly, I’d be glad if you decide to become a paid subscriber. Your support not only allows me to continue my work and keeps this newsletter running but also helps my Belarusian and Ukrainian families who became refugees.

Thank you!

Warmly,

Darya

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Email: daryazorka@substack.com

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