Books & Literature

Introducing Muskan Bhatia

Muskan Bhatia at Bicerin—an emerging literary voice in Canterbury whose poetry blends art, truth, and survival with profound emotional depth.

Muskan Bhatia

08 Oct 2025 — 3 min read

Muskan Bhatia, our new poet at Bicerin (Canterbury, UK)

Here at Bicerin we are honoured to welcome Muskan Bhatia —an artist whose voice reminds us that poetry is not only art, but testimony. Her words move with quiet courage, giving language to what so often remains unspoken, and in doing so, they reaffirm the power of honesty in a world that too easily turns away from truth.

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As she joins our growing circle of poets, thinkers, and dreamers, we invite our readers to follow her journey closely. Bhatia’s forthcoming book projects (supported by the Bicerin Family) promise to expand the emotional and philosophical depth we glimpse in her current works—each new poem a continuation of her exploration into survival, memory, and connection.

Selected works and artist statement

I am a writer who believes poetry is both confession and connection.

For me, it is the language of the unseen, the things we carry but rarely voice. Poetry allows me to translate silence into words, turning my inner landscapes of grief, longing, and resilience into something tangible.

Writing is survival. Each poem is a fragment of myself I’ve chosen not to hide—a way to stand face-to-face with what aches and transform it into something others can hold.

Poetry matters to me because it reminds me I am not alone. It means giving shape to shadows, finding meaning in survival, and offering honesty in a world that often prefers masks. Through poetry, I am both vulnerable and strong, fractured yet whole. And in these words, I find not just myself, but a bridge to others who might also be searching for language in their silence.

The Distance of Me from Me

I don’t remember happiness—
the distance between me and me
grows deeper,
a quiet divide
widening in the dark.

Joy flickers in brief moments—
small sparks
that vanish before they can warm me.
I’m overwhelmed by living,
each breath
a weight pressing on my chest.

The thought of ending
feels nearer than it should.
It’s not that I seek silence—
only that the noise
has been too loud
for too long.

It feels like life
was never light,
just a dark void
wearing the shape of hope.

The Remnant

Some days
I am a shadow
of who I was.
Other days,
not even that.

But here I am,
still writing,
still naming the storm.
And maybe that,
in some small,
aching way—
is survival.

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