Poetry from Eva Petropoulou Lianou

Light skinned middle aged European woman with long reddish-brown hair and a smile. She's in front of a lake on a sunny day with trees and people on the beach behind her.

Women in chains

Unloved Woman 2

I was alone for years…

Like a tree

During the rain

So when I met this man

It was love at the first sight

I think

Talking hours on the phone

Talking hours over the dinner table

-U are only mine, he whispers for years

– U belong to me, he repeat day after day

I didn’t react when he search my bag, my phone, my Facebook account..

He told me to delete my social media accounts

He told me no need to go to work because he will take care of me

He told me, never go out alone…

I do not like!!

I did not react,

I did not go away

I did not talk to anyone

I keep my secrets deep inside

Without smile

Without tears

One night, they find me

In a foetus position

Cover of blood

He stabbed me with the kitchen knife….

After we had celebrated our 5th anniversary

The police described the whole scene

as a

Crime of passion

……….. 

Speak up!!!! 

Open the door and run!!!!

Do not be afraid!!! 

Essay from Madina Furkatova

Young Central Asian teen girls seated at a classroom table listening to one of them standing to speak to them. Uzbek flags and bookshelves in the background.

Breaking Barriers: Young Women Leaders Transform Uzbekistan Through Revolutionary “EmpowerHer” Forum

Madina Furkatova 

Coordinator of Uzbekistan Youth Union,

 Founder of “Community Changers” volunteer club

Email: furqatovamadina7@gmail.com  Contact: +998901027107

In a groundbreaking initiative that connected 150 young women across Uzbekistan and Karakalpakstan, the “EmpowerHer: Republican Women Leaders Forum” has emerged as a catalyst for unprecedented change in female leadership development. This three-day online forum, spearheaded by the “Community Changers” club, addresses a critical gap that has long hindered the region’s progress: limited access to leadership development opportunities for young women.     

It was great opportunity and inspiration for me to join the Leader Girls Forum. It was a truly inspiring event where I learned practical skills on leadership, communication, and self-confidence.

I especially valued the supportive atmosphere and the chance to connect with other motivated young women. The forum encouraged me to believe in my potential and left a lasting positive impression. — Mehribon Xayrullayeva

Tackling the Root of Gender Inequality

The project directly confronts three fundamental challenges plaguing young women in Central Asia. Geographic isolation prevents talented women from connecting with peers and successful role models across different provinces, creating isolated pockets of untapped potential. A systematic information gap about international scholarships, prestigious university programs, and global career pathways has left countless capable women unaware of opportunities that could transform their futures. Most critically, the absence of structured leadership development programs specifically designed for young women has meant that practical skills in entrepreneurship, financial independence, and professional networking remain largely inaccessible.

We identified that talented young women remain underrepresented in key leadership roles across government, business, and civil society organizations due to lack of preparation and networks. The consequences are far-reaching: promising female talent either emigrates without contributing to local development or remains underutilized, missing opportunities for both personal growth and national advancement.

A Comprehensive Solution Taking Shape

The EmpowerHer forum operates through a systematic two-phase approach that has proven remarkably effective. Phase One involves a rigorous 20-day application and selection process, ensuring committed participants are identified through careful screening. Phase Two delivers an intensive three-day forum featuring expert speakers, interactive workshops, and crucial networking sessions.

The project’s success lies in its comprehensive components. Expert speaker sessions feature accomplished women leaders including Khurshida Rakhmonova, Chief Coordinator of Girls’ Voice Club; Saida Abdunazarova, winner of the US KECTIL and Aspire Leaders Program; and Gulnur Esova, a UK University Master’s student. These sessions provide participants with real-world insights from women who have successfully navigated international opportunities while maintaining their cultural roots.

Skill development workshops cover essential areas: personal development, financial independence, CV enhancement, startup creation, and leadership discovery. The networking platform connects participants from various provinces and Karakalpakstan, creating unprecedented cross-regional collaboration opportunities. A certification program provides official certificates valuable for scholarship applications, while a talent registry creates a “Talented Girls List” for ongoing support and project tracking.

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Addressing Global Sustainability Goals

The forum directly advances multiple United Nations Sustainable Development Goals, primarily SDG 4 (Quality Education) and SDG 5 (Gender Equality). “Research shows that when women lead, there is significant positive impact on students’ academic performance and overall well-being,”. “Our empowered participants will contribute to educational excellence in their communities.”

The project also connects to SDG 8 (Decent Work and Economic Growth) through entrepreneurship training, SDG 10 (Reduced Inequalities) by providing equal opportunities across different regions, and SDG 17 (Partnerships for the Goals) through international networking and collaboration opportunities.

Measuring Real Impact

The forum’s success is measured through both quantitative and qualitative metrics. All 150 participants completed the program and received certificates, achieving a 100% completion rate. More importantly, the project tracks long-term outcomes including scholarship applications, career advancement, and startup initiatives launched by participants.

Success benchmarks are ambitious yet achievable: Year one targets 90% participant satisfaction with 50% pursuing new opportunities and establishment of an active alumni network. By year two, the program aims to expand to 300+ participants with secured international partnerships. Year three envisions regional recognition as the premier women’s leadership platform with a 500+ alumni network and measurable SDG impact in participant communities.Mentalaba - Universitet haqida batafsil
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Building Sustainable Networks

The forum’s vision extends far beyond a single event. To establish EmpowerHer as the premier leadership development platform for young women in Central Asia, creating a generation of confident, skilled, and internationally connected female leaders who drive sustainable development in their communities.

The EmpowerHer forum represents more than professional development—it embodies a fundamental shift toward gender equality and sustainable progress. As these 150 young women leaders return to their communities armed with new skills, networks, and confidence, they carry with them the potential to transform not just their own futures, but the trajectory of Central Asia’s development.

Through partnerships with the Uzbekistan Youth Union Samarkand Provincial Council and Samarkand State Institute of Foreign Languages, with future collaboration planned with the Uzbekistan Volunteer Association, EmpowerHer demonstrates that sustainable change requires comprehensive, culturally-sensitive approaches to women’s empowerment. The revolution in female leadership has begun, one empowered woman at a time.

Poetry from Brooks Lindberg


glacier as existentialist:

a glacier

doesn’t seek a form

it is one

so too the valley it carved

the mountains it ripped

the sky it deepens

day and night

dripping itself into

its own coffin

Brooks Lindberg lives in the Pacific Northwest. Several of his poems appear here, in Synchronized Chaos. Others appear frequently in The Beatnik Cowboy, Horror Sleaze Trash, and elsewhere.

Poetry from Raisa Anan Mustakin

The era of separation

This is how it is, I tell myself

Unemployment on the roof-top

No one cares to share their lighter

To light up your cigarette anymore

My folks belong to the era

Where you shared towns

Kept the doors unlocked

As though all belonged to the same house

There is no deadline and daffodils

Mesmerize while I’m stuck decades ago

Caffeinated on cheap coffee

Scavenging the job columns

Finding fish bones and rotten spinach

Ink-died pens and scooping 

The last drops from the soup bowl

Allen Ginsberg is dead

I tell myself, no more love

Circulating around the corporate cubicles

You are on your own 

This is the era of separation

This is how it is, I tell myself

Solitude is no longer optional

Faces look kinder on the TV screen

Poetry from Mahbub Alam

Middle aged South Asian man with reading glasses, short dark hair, and an orange and green and white collared shirt. He's standing in front of a lake with bushes and grass in the background.
Mahbub Alam

Forgetfulness

I look all around

Find out the past

In the land, on the waters

Press on the gear to speed up

As the birds fly towards the sky

Leaving everything loving back

I fly to thee

O my forgetfulness

Just like the flowery garden

Over there in the darkness

The stars always blink

The light we enjoy at night

Swimming all the way

I find myself on the bank

Keeping your hand on my back

Here flows the waves of the green crops

We always play at our own skills and charms

Forgetfulness twinkles over here, there

Making a way to the glory of endless delight.

Md. Mahbubul Alam is from Bangladesh. His writer name is Mahbub John in Bangladesh. He is a Senior Teacher (English) of Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh. Chapainawabganj is a district town of Bangladesh. He is an MA in English Literature from Rajshahi College under National University. He has published three books of poems in Bangla. He writes mainly poems but other branches of literature such as prose, article, essay etc. also have been published in national and local newspapers, magazines, little magazines. He has achieved three times the Best Teacher Certificate and Crest in National Education Week in the District Wise Competition in Chapainawabganj District. He has gained many literary awards from home and abroad. His English writings have been published in Synchronized Chaos for seven years.

Poetry from Anakha S.J.

Pixelated gray image of a South Asian teen girl with earrings and dark curly hair.

Dark Rose

There is a dark red rose in my garden.

Morning dewdrops at the rise petals.

Sparkle like diamonds.

It seems to be the most beautiful rose in the world.

The rose in my yard settle in my heart.

A rose by the name LOVE has bloomed 8n my heart.

In morning, and in the evening,

I like to water her.

I love her, I care her,

My red rose, my red rose.

…   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …   …

Anakha S J, 15 years old,  is a student in Govt. High School, Vithura, Kerala, India. Writing poetry and gardening are her passion and hobby.

Poetry from Abigail George (one of many)

Longing

for K. Sello Duiker

I sleep when I am tired

When there’s a hummingbird in my mouth

A starling swimming in a cup of honey

On my kitchen table

I was so good at giving 

my heart away to the flowers,

to the rain, to the sky, 

to the empty field behind my house

I am tired of being mentally ill,

this chronic sickness,

this flame

the powers that be

I watch it burn between my fingers

It tastes of Palestine

Cold stone turned into rubble

Make it go away

But it doesn’t go away

Look!

Wildflowers have started 

to grow next to my bed in the hospital

next to the bars at my window

I needed sanity in my life

Every woman needs that

So I imagined their beauty,

their growth

the growth and beauty 

of the wildflowers

Every woman needs that

In my bedroom, at home

a cobweb covers the rose,

my mother’s wizened hands

and fingers as she makes my bed

She bought me a journal,

a new pen,

new books

She places these gifts

on the table next to my bed

welcoming me home

She doesn’t say that she loves me

She doesn’t say that I’ve been missed

The gifts are enough

The fact that they tidied up my room

that my mother’s made up my bed

I dance in the Imperial dark

by myself, barefoot,

to the lonely notes of pianist Olga Scheps

The bathwater turns into seawater

The kitchen turns into the shore

I hug the red fox 

bleeding into the sheet

I hand my father his teeth

and towel-dry my hands

I watch him shave

We read the newspaper

in the sitting room

We drink coffee

We eat cheese sandwiches

We talk

Years later

I am standing in the kitchen

thinking back to my first breakdown

My brother makes eggs 

While he makes the eggs

he shouts at me

Those were his words and not my own,

I tell myself

I ate the green olives gingerly

Olives for breakfast

They tasted delicious and cold

The men in my life

that tension and spark

didn’t know what to do

with me really

Only that I could never

be wife material

Only that I could never 

raise children

Oh, madwomen couldn’t do that

Years later

I am alone

remembering all of this

all of them

remembering the breakdown

how it changed me

how it broke me in waves

The kitchen turns into the shore

The bathwater turns into seawater

I sink

I fall

I think

I know it all

Cloud people turn to dust in the rain

Another year turns into a birthday cake

A woman brings life into the world

The father, my brother, nurtures the child

Calls his daughter “Princess”

My father loves me

He turns the wrinkled prunes 

and custard into a feast meal

I was loved

I am loved

I will love myself and take care of myself

It’s much too late

The clock doesn’t work anymore

Yes, it’s much too late.

flame

in the silence

in this, this lonely hour

Gaza falls

like the neck of a wildflower falls

this too shall pass

do you remember the past

your past

i am in the cave again

how your voices warm my heart

how your voices comfort me

a bird spilled out of me

i am 19 years old

getting on a bus to Johannesburg

not knowing I will go mad there

that it will be six months

before I will see the sun again

the leaves are sad for me

this singing forest, my mother

there is a terror inside of me

the voices murmur something

something about a baptism

i am only a passenger

a passenger who lost her mind

the marbles rock the children to sleep

the children i will never have

the son and daughter i will never have

speak, memory of light, of war

before I disinherit you

summer. salt. tears

the highway falls through the sky

i read everything

i can even read your mind,

this silence

this perception and topography of light healed all my wounds

bloodless grass

on reading that sad story Flowers For Algernon

flame

tomato seeds plastered on my tongue

tasting of summer in the salad

droplets of seawater

against my skin

cold. wet. plasma

the shake of the fish seismic

these pills fill me or are they peas

please fix me, i cried

my mother doesn’t love me

i doubt she ever has

perhaps when i was a baby

no

perhaps when i cried

in her own mother’s arms

i don’t know

perhaps when she knew

that i was going to be a writer

at eight

well, maybe

at twelve, when the typewriter appeared

perhaps when she 

bought adult diapers for me

but she never told me,

her manic depressive daughter

in so many words

that she loved me

i am still crying

middle-aged i am still crying

please, please fix me

fix what is broken

make me whole again

bring my father back to life

i’m changing

i’m changing

watch how proteas grow

out, yes, out of my fingers

watch how they hiss, 

snake and groove

just look at how perfect the day is

Don’t you forget about me, pinky swear promise me, R.

I’m sick, R.

It’s my kidneys

(they don’t

work so nicely

anymore) and

my heart and 

so sometimes

I get tired. So, so 

tired. Today was

one of those 

days. You’re

two-years-old so 

you don’t really

understand

but I’m telling

you anyway so

that you’ll

understand one day

So, today you

weren’t mine

So, today you

didn’t belong 

to me. Your

father kept you

 hidden from me.

You didn’t 

sing for me. We

didn’t watch

 television together.

I didn’t 

cook for you.

I was crazy, he 

said. I felt no

shame. Many 

people had

called me that. I 

sat in my bedroom

as your father 

shouted at me.

Where’s the food?

He screamed, as

he walked down

the passage

with you in his arms

You do goddam

nothing in this

 house. It didn’t

matter. Nothing 

mattered. Only

the composer 

Maurice Ravel.

I could feel him 

in my bones, you

know? He was

shielding 

me from my

brother’s gaze.

Lifting me towards

the foam of the

sea threatening

to engulf me via

the ceiling . Oh,

you’ll see. You’ll forget 

me. Just like

other family members, 

just like my mother

on my birthday, the 

church, the

Johannesburg

People. This

memory of

isolation is so 

deep. Today

you didn’t ask for

me but that

didn’t make me cry

It was, forget

about her, she’s

crazy, (I mean

what kind of man

says that 

to a two year old.)

Soon I’ll disappear,

vanish like chocolate

into thin air. There’s

no key that can fit

into the cage

of my heart

anymore. Shush.

Close your eyes.

Go to sleep. I

am only a dream.

He screams and

screams. The man

screams and

screams at me

but all I can hear

is Olga Scheps  and

Maurice Ravel. Look!

I am turning

into a pianist,

a composer. They’re

standing for me

like they stood for

Beethoven. There’s

no more pain.

Everything that

I do is still wrong

but there’s no more

pain. There’s no

longer a cage in

front of and behind

me, an order and

routine of isolation.