What Is Home, If Not The Land We’ve Known?
written by: Aurora Kastanias
Our first breath—a scent, a touch, a mother,
A cradle, a shelter, a lair, a land, a home.
All grasped, sensed, deciphered and stored
In minds that will worship this hearth in their ode.
The cubs we were we grow
Fed by the earth under skies we know,
Nurtured by our “motherland” there’s a reason
The word was forged, a reason animals fight
For the territory minds worship in their ode.
A space defined by trees, by flowers, by seas,
By hills, by mountains, by paths taken with ease,
The streets, the odours, the voices carried by the breeze,
The market, the spices, the life, the flames that glow,
The laughter that echoes in the places we know.
A language, the accent of the stories we’ve been told,
Our colours, our lineaments, countenances we behold,
Our roots, our flesh, our tribe, the faith we endure,
The land does not belong to us, we belong to the land.
This land is not ours to own
We are part of it from the seeds we’ve sown,
Been bound to its soil through labour and blood,
Upon it, we crawl, we stand, we breathe its tale, we die.
So no, you can kill my brothers and tear down my walls,
Burn my pages, bury my name, turn my world to dust,
Yet what’s not yours you can never possess,
My ancient shores, my truth—untouched, no less.
And yes, you can move me as a pawn on your board
To a land of your choosing, a land I have not adored,
Displace me as if I’m a game,
Yet there will be no peace where I feel no flame.
There will be no shelter amongst strangers,
For I’ll never recognise the echoes, nor the scents,
I’ll never feel whole where the breeze won’t blow,
For I’ll never breathe in and breathe the tale of me.
And stripped of that tale, land won’t possibly be a home,
For what is home, if not the land we’ve known.
While studying for my BA in Business Administration, at an American University in Rome, I further got enchanted by 19th century existential authors as well as European ‘absurdism’ and the Theatre of the Absurd.
It was only after my MBA that I started writing more seriously, giving space to my true passions. In recent years I have written two existential novels in Italian. In recent months I have started studing astrophysics and writing poems in english, which finally brings me here.
- What Is Home, If Not The Land We’ve Known? - March 13, 2026
- She Dances Through Time - November 3, 2025
- When We Forget - August 2, 2025
