their backpacks filled with new crayons and glue sticks.
Morning begins with Mass. The students pray
together, sharing optimism and faith—
until the gunfire starts. Round after round
sprays through a stained-glass window, firing wild.
Two kids are killed, and 18 more are wounded.
Terror, shock, and panic fill the church.
One boy, shielding his friend, shot in the back.
A wounded girl keeps pleading, “Hold my hand.”
There’s no escape. The shooter barred a door
with a 2X4. Brought three guns. Used them all—
a rifle, shotgun, pistol. Perfect tools
for someone standing outside, shooting in.
Just like the shooter’s heroes in the news.
It takes a lot of hate to mow down children—
faces bright with eagerness and promise.
What kind of mind resents their zest and joy?
Seeks only to destroy, destroy, destroy?
And why can some young person filled with rage
buy gun after gun after gun– no questions asked?
This feast of hate was crowned by suicide.
Without guns, toxic hate would not be fatal.
* On August 27, 2025, a sniper shot through a Church window at children attending a Mass that opened the school year for Annunciation Catholic School in Minneapolis. Two dead, 18 wounded.
ICE WELCOMES STRANGERS
ICE targets brown—brown eyes, brown hair, brown skin.
Storm troopers drag whole families from rich fields,
leaving crops half-picked. These bounty hunters
seize brown workers from construction sites,
hotel staffs, work crews, courts, meat-packing plants.—
disrupting businesses, creating holes
that can’t be filled. A green card’s not a shield.
Different Feathers?
Has free verse been freed from tradition?
Was the latter determined adverse?
Is different different than better?
Just what is the price of free verse?
Does free verse have better transmission?
Is tradition decidedly worse?
Is better better than different,
and will the twain ever converse?
Be Realio-Trulio
Sonnets ill-used,
erroneous meter,
perhaps a reader
will be confused
when it’s perused—
although by name
it may be the same.
If form is abused,
rhyming refused
(not really a rose),
it clearly shows
its poet accused.
Though enthused,
none are excused.
The Piper’s Sonnet
Although I write this sonnet silently,
clandestine, as it were, so none may see,
I wonder whether someday I’ll allow
its light to shine and break its silent vow.
So why express in secret on a page
the thoughts in which I currently engage?
It’s hard to say, although on August 3rd
no surreptitious sonnet is absurd.
By that, I mean that none would not suffice;
by writing one, at least, you pay the price
the Piper calls for on this special day
so that his tune won’t swoon each muse away.
To write or not? I’ll do it secretly.
For now, a covert action just for me.
I Come to Raze Your Ears, Not Praise Them!
I went to a poetry reading
with a follow-up open mic.
It’s the first time that I’d been to one—
didn’t know what they might like.
So, alrighty then,
I could listen without care,
since diversity of poetry
wasn’t what had brought me there.
We all heard the featured poet
reading from his new chapbook.
It’s the first time that I’d been to one
and I read the one I took.
Well, alrighty, then,
they could listen without care,
since diversity of poetry
wasn’t what had brought them there.
The second poem, “Be Realio-Trulio,” is a “minison,” a form established by The Minison Project (https://theminisonproject.com/): 14 lines, 14 letters per line, and a 14-letter title.
The third, “The Piper’s Sonnet,” was written a month ago for Surreptitious Sonnet Day, August 3rd.
The last, “I Come to Raze Your Ears, Not Praise Them!” was written to the tune of Ricky Nelson’s 1972 hit tune “Garden Party.”
“For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord plans to prosper you, and not harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
Jeremiah 29:11
Preface: I have walked seeking God since my earliest days of life. God has been my focus because of my need to know that I belonged to someone. I felt surrounded by an empty place and dark place, but felt comforted by the seven day candle representation God’s Holy Light, the burning colors of the votive candles burning and finally, the magnificent array of colors flowing through the stained-glass windows.
This was my sanctuary from the darkness that pervaded all aspects of my life outside of God. Here in the church, I felt God’s heart for me – in this place of salvation.
My aunt Lucille adopted me legally at age eight, but God accepted me since my birth. When she introduced me to Him, I knew that He truly loved me and He created me, and adopted me into the family of His Son, Jesus.
My aunt Lucille exposed me to Holy Redeemer Catholic Church on New York Ave in DC. Morning mass was a part of her religious ritual. Each weekday I accompanied her to Holy Redeemer. Sitting there amidst these elderly women of the church were regular attendees for weekly mornings mass -Monday thru Friday. On Saturday, we went to another Catholic Church Saint Aloysius on North Capitol St. Saint Aloysius was different to me. It was different inside. It seemed larger than Holy Redeemer. It wasn’t those old ladies there and just a few other attendees at Saturday morning mass. Being the only child at Holy Redeemer added to the feeling of being out of place.
However, at Saint Aloysius there was a sense of privacy with God that I did not feel at Holy Redeemer. It was just me and my aunt sat in the pews with plenty of space.
One day. there was a circumstance in which the priest approached my aunt. When I would receive Holy Communion, I would take the body of Christ out of my mouth and put it on the floor where I had been kneeling because I did not like the taste of it. She was embarrassed and ashamed for being scolded by a priest for my desecration of the body of Christ. I didn’t know anything about desecration, but I didn’t like the taste in my mouth. I was also that child who, when he didn’t like his food he would feed it to the dog. I can still see the priest using a white cloth – probably a handkerchief – to pick up the body of Christ off the marble floor. I don’t remember her words to me, but I remember the shame and guilt she felt.
This was a pattern between us…she seem to always be apologizing for me. Dee was aware of my quiet nature and allowed me to be quiet.
Sitting in church alone was a way for me to be safe from all the noise of the darkness outside. Inside of me and outside of me in the sanctuary was quietness that transcended the darkness. The lit candles and stained glass windows offered more colorful light. To me, light offered safety.
Dee was part native American and half-negro and had a very strict belief that children should be raised to be respectful and listen to adults. However, her lessons were teaching me how to be with God. Her words continue in my memory: “you belong to God.” She often reminded me of this. Therefore, I sought God’s safety from the place of darkness that surrounded me.
There was noise and more noise in and outside the house. The streets were full of noise and more noise. Still, I sought God in the streets of noise and darkness that existed surrounding me. The fear of darkness wasn’t in the night, but a continuous journey into the daylight – which also dark.
Sitting in the quietness of light in Holy Redeemer Church was a reverse of being surrounded by not only darkness, but the fear of what may happen to me outside of the sanctuary of God. God’s sanctuary was a different experience, as the feeling of being consumed left and was replaced by security. It was a different stillness than the stillness of being hidden from the treacherous streets. The candles flickering and the white color represents God’s presence on the altar in front of the Tabernacle.
The church was my refuge, my sanctuary, my safe haven from the treacherous street of darkness. In the church, the votive candles burned with glasses of various colors of blue, red ,and yellow. The votive candles were on a stand with several rows of candles and the variety of colors blended together in unison. I was mesmerized by the light and the quiet. Sometimes the sound of a candle would quietly reach a place deep within me. The most quiet candle burning was the candle of God’s presence, and was a white candle made of beeswax. For me, this handle of God’s light represented purity.
The wonderful colors would seem to fade as my eyes slowly, with purpose, scanned the altar and rested on the light of God as the candle could somehow flicker and be still almost the same time.
This shiny marble floor added to the light of God’s surroundings. It was the total opposite of being in the darkness outside. Now, the light of God was surrounding me and filled my inner most being. My very essence was now safe. While I slept, death surrounded me in the streets and feelings of fear covered me. I walked in fear and slept in fear of my surroundings because of the volcano of sounds of the streets that slipped into the cracks of the apartment walls.
But when I came to know God, a stillness came inside of me – a place that nothing had reached before. It was the innocence of knowing that God existed in the total stillness of my thoughts. My heart was still and calm. It seemed to be still in unison to the stillness of the light of a flickering wick. The feeling of peace and the comfort of my heart were beating in unison with the flickering light.
Surly, God would live here in the light shining from the candles and stillness. I couldn’t imagine how God could live out in the streets with all the trappings of inner-city life. Yes, God would live here with the light of His light. God’s quietness flowed into my essence and held me safely in the light of His presence. I sat alone in the majestic palace of the essence of God’s presence surrounding me, protecting me, and giving me life like the breath of God at my birth. I was not alone, but was His creation that fit into this glorious sanctuary.
Dee often times would not speak and I watched her more intently. By watching Dee, I would learn to listen for the quietness of movement. She moved with a quietness and stillness. It would be fair to say that I loved her. She was always there while surrounding me and teaching me and loving me by giving me to God to care for.
The inner-city wasn’t a sanctuary, but rather darkness even in the daylight. The darkness surrounded my thoughts, my emotions and my body. My serenity faded, and the bright light of the sun made me close my eyes as I exited God’s house.
My neighborhood was full of the trappings of darkness and noise- lots of noise. There were gunshots and screaming and babies crying into the night, as if they also felt the dead and darkness. This filled each moment of my waking and night life. I cried for safety. I would cry myself to sleep in the darkness of my bed. Yes, I cried without ending and afraid my gasping for air would be heard in the darkness. So, I held my breath as the tears soaked my pillow and my heart ached.
Many years were filled with soaked pillows and holding my breath as I continued to gasp for air. It was the same kind of gasp made when crying and the gasping for air. The voice in my head said, “Shut up or I’ll give you something to cry about.” No, I cried without sounds that would be heard in the safety of my bed under the sheets.
The time passed slowly before there was a shift from darkness to light and the feelings of abandonment inside of me. Because my mother left me with Dee at two weeks old, tere was an emptiness of not belonging. Therefore, I sought to belong and Dee had said that I belonged to God. I was not convinced of that. This was before I was taken to Holy Redeemer Catholic Church by aunt Lucille. Prior, I would receive lessons from Dee, who had a personal relationship with God and Jesus Christ. She always said that I belonged to God. She always spoke about God and Jesus. I don’t recall anything she said, other than I heard His name seemingly all the time. Before going to Holy Redeemer Church, seeking God meant walking the darkest streets of New Jersey Avenue. There is one night that is still clear on my memory where I experienced the darkness of New Jersey Avenue before P street. It was perhaps about seven years old at the time. The important part of this memory is that I was seeking God in the streets of DC as a very young child. The night lights were dim not bright but dim the brightness of the streets that come from the headlights of the passing cars.
Mostly, I remember feeling void and lost. So lost that even today at sixty-eight, I recall vividly that experience of walking physical in darkness. Another time that changed my life completely was a time when I was standing on the corner of Q street and I forgot the intersection. The light was green and then red and the light was green and then it was red. I shook as I was unable to breathe. I know I was six or seven at the time, because I hadn’t been adopted by my aunt Lucille yet. Dee said that she was tired of our parents not coming for us and she was tired. Even at that very young age, it was a burden not to belong and I had feelings of being unwanted and a burden to Dee. So, I stood there as the light kept changing colors. Where could I go? Who wanted me? Slowly, I began the walk to my aunts apartment on North Capitol St. I knew the streets because it was the way we went when Lucille picked me up from Dee’s.
Did I want to go to my aunts? No. Yet I had no place that I could go in the night that I stood at the light. Truthfully, I never felt loved, which was understandable.
I went to my aunt that night and stayed with her until I was twenty-one. All those years, I never truly felt wanted by her or my uncle Bernard. However, i managed through that hardship until returning to Holy Redeemer. Sitting in Holy Redeemer Church in the quietness of my soul and God being God was quiet. He was undeniably peaceful. I loved to be alone with God. Alone with all the safety and attention without needing to hide. It was ok to be still and quite but not out of fear but rather to just be still and breathe.
Day after day sitting in the sanctuary of God in Holy Redeemer Church. I had been adopted by the age of eight by Lucille. Still, I had no home – no sense of belonging, but sitting there inside the sanctuary was home. It was not only a physical retreat, but something much deeper and calming and familiar to my inner sanctuary. Although there was still chaos outside and other noise, in here, God had come to that empty place within. My longing for Him has continued, since those very first encounters back while sitting in the pew waiting and waiting and listening for God to speak. Like waiting for that light to change before crossing the street – just waiting to be connected again and again by the Holy presence of God.
Perhaps, I knew God wanted me since those very first time when sitting in His Holy sanctuary in His heart. You see beyond the colors of the votive candles burning and the sunlight piercing thru the stained-glass windows and the altar with God’s light burning. There was a sense of quietness and firm stillness inside of me. The surrounding atmosphere of the Holy sanctuary blended together deep inside of me and the outer sanctuary was in unison. No, there was no audible voice, but rather a voice of serenity which never faded
Home was finally accepting that God wanted me and had adopted me at eight or so, but it was God that wanted me while caring for me. I was used by Lucille, but cared for by God. Lucille rejected me and God accepted me. Lucille harmed in many ways which is not needed to be expounded upon. I will only repeat that harm came to me when I was adopted by her.
Salvation Lived Moment by moment (The gift of life for all eternity in each moment now)
“The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?”
Psalm 27:1
“Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid. For the Lord GOD is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation.”
Isaiah 12:2
Living each moment in the present moment without fear. My salvation has come and my redemption has been accepted by me. My walk to Calvary step by step with my Cross and my Crucifixion and now my full Resurrection thru Jesus Christ. You see, it was Jesus walking with me to Calvary and helping me carry my Cross and my Crucifixion was my inner-self accepting Jesus’ gift of Resurrection for me. This is my daily life – to accept and recognize the truth that without Jesus’s Resurrection I would not be free in spirit.
The freedom has awakened my soul to the truth about my being adopted into the family of God. The Holy family of God who created me with a plan and purpose for my life not just here and now, but for eternity. Moment by moment remembering that thru Jesus, my freedom has been paid in full. Yet, it was thru many hardships for decades that I sought God.
August 15th, 2025 it came into play that yes, I had been redeemed long before when being about eight sitting in Holy Redeemer Catholic Church watching the candle of God burning in front of the Tabernacle and the votive candles with an array of colors. In the stillness and quietness sitting there for an audible voice of God.
I felt His presence inside of me as I left the church. However, it is now in the present moment God has been surrounding and inside of that deep deep place known as my soul.
My soul is there quietly listening to Him and when the thoughts come and my hands write from a place in which is deep inside, my faith is strengthened and renewed. I learned that God communicates in the quietness of light as the the white flickering candle which burns in front of the Tabernacle. It was that light which brought a comfort and serenity to my worries and calmed my mind.
God’s Holy presence has carried me since age eight years old. Now at sixty-eight years I can say that I have lived thru His grace and love that gives unequal faith because His faithfulness and fullness encompasses my being. I’m faithful to Him.
“Trust in the Lord, and do good; dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness. Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him, and he will act.”
Psalm 37:3-5
“For the Lord will not reject his people; he will never forsake his inheritance.”
Psalm 94:14
“For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my expectation is from him.”
Psalm 62:5
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
Psalm 34:18
Prayer of Faith
In remembrance of you my Holy Father, my heart finds rest. My faithfulness is rooted in your teachings to my soul of your faithfulness. My actions now are a continuous reminder of your deep desires for me to prosper in your Heavenly Kingdom. You patiently waited as you taught me at eight years old, for the time to unite with you for all eternity. You are my treasured inheritance and I shall never forget that you saved me thru your Holy presence. Yes, you did not harm me, but saved me. My time has not been in vain for you have honored me with your opened heart which led me to the fountain of resurrection. My soul is full.
SUSTAINABILITY IN BOOK PUBLISHING: CHALLENGES AND OPPORTUNITIES
Abstract
This article analyzes the concept of sustainability in book publishing, the challenges it faces, and the opportunities available for sustainable development. It examines the use of environmentally friendly materials and energy-efficient technologies in the publishing industry, the role of digital publishing, and its economic and social aspects. Improving production processes and introducing innovations in line with sustainability principles will contribute to the long-term development of publishing houses.
Keywords
Sustainability, book publishing, eco-friendly materials, digital publishing, energy efficiency, environmental protection, waste reduction, recycled paper, social responsibility, innovative technologies
Introduction
Today, the global economy and industry are increasingly based on the principles of environmental sustainability. Sustainable development is a set of strategies aimed at conserving natural resources for future generations, protecting the environment, and ensuring social well-being. The book publishing industry is no exception to this process and is striving to increase its environmental responsibility. This is due to the fact that paper production and printing processes have a significant environmental impact. This article explores the concept of sustainability in book publishing, the emerging challenges, and the new opportunities in this field.
Main Body
Sustainability is a concept that integrates environmental, economic, and social spheres, aimed at the rational use of natural resources and the reduction of pollution. In the publishing industry, sustainability refers to processes based on the use of eco-friendly materials, energy-efficient technologies, and waste reduction. Paper production involves deforestation, high water consumption, and the use of chemicals, all of which pose environmental threats. As a result, the demand for recycled paper and other eco-friendly materials is increasing.
There are several challenges in achieving environmental sustainability in publishing. Firstly, eco-friendly materials and new technologies are often more expensive than traditional methods. This can lead to an increase in product prices and a potential decrease in consumer demand. Secondly, recycled paper may not always match the quality of conventional paper. Additionally, both producers and consumers may lack sufficient environmental awareness.
However, innovative technologies and government policies play a crucial role in addressing these issues. For example, strengthening environmental protection laws, implementing eco-certification systems, and providing subsidies can encourage the production of sustainable products. At the same time, publishing companies should optimize their internal processes and adopt methods that conserve energy and water resources.
Today, the growth of e-books and digital publishing is reducing the demand for paper. Digital publications offer opportunities for sustainable development, but they also come with challenges such as energy consumption and electronic waste. Therefore, it is important to focus on hybrid models that combine digital and print publishing.
Demand for products manufactured in accordance with sustainability principles is growing. This provides publishing businesses with opportunities to access new markets and attract customers. Moreover, increasing social responsibility improves the company’s image and strengthens relationships with both employees and customers. Adhering to sustainability principles can enhance economic efficiency in the long term and ensure resource conservation.
Conclusion
Sustainability in book publishing is a pressing issue of our time. Publishing companies must address environmental challenges by implementing innovative technologies, using eco-friendly materials, and developing sustainable strategies in collaboration with government policies. Combining digital and print publishing opens up new opportunities.
Thus, sustainability becomes the foundation for the environmental, economic, and social health of the publishing industry.
In addition, by widely adopting sustainability principles, publishing houses can enhance their competitiveness on a global scale. Along with the positive impact on the environment, they can demonstrate social responsibility, thereby building trust among consumers and partners. Furthermore, the efficiency and cost-effectiveness of sustainable production help reduce manufacturing costs in the long run. Therefore, supporting sustainability is an effective strategy not only from an environmental standpoint but also from business and social perspectives.
References
Smith, J. (2020). Sustainable Publishing Practices: Challenges and Innovations. Green Press Publishing.
Johnson, L., & Brown, M. (2019). “Environmental Impact of Paper Production in the Publishing Industry,” Journal of Sustainable Development, 12(3), 45–60.
Williams, R. (2021). Eco-friendly Materials in Printing: A Practical Guide. EcoPrint Publications.
Davis, K. (2018). “The Role of Digital Publishing in Reducing Environmental Footprint,” International Journal of Digital Media, 8(2), 22–35.
United Nations. (2015). Transforming Our World: The 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development. United Nations.
Thompson, H., & Garcia, S. (2020). “Economic Benefits of Sustainable Publishing,” Publishing Economics Review, 14(1), 10–25.
Nilufar Mo’ydinova was born in Qo‘shtepa district of Fergana region, Republic of Uzbekistan. She graduated from the Uzbek State University of World Languages. She currently works as a manager at the “Fair Print” Typography Service. Her articles have been published in the newspaper Bekajon.
A phantasmagoria including the past and present, visions, dreams, bits of reality, psychic seers and the sea, hairstyles, nature walks, talismans, seasons and wonder. When I was a kid I could see that spirit was announcing itself through the floor tiles, sometimes the wallpaper or clouds, and other things. The problem later, for a mystic that is,- is a liberal arts or even worse, science education, and growing up in general. This takes the ghosts away and then you fit in but fit into what?- to a mediocre and a blasé reality devoid of electric and eclectic realms. The spirits were there, are there, and not as a projection but rather a protection. Sometimes though, they themselves are lost souls as are we, and they are crying out for help or to at least be seen. There are such things, such strange mellow and sometimes startling phenomenon.
The diviner said that one of the people listening was wearing a whale necklace. And I was. And she said the letter B as an initial. This was true. This was me. And yet in another instance, she said also, about green iguanas and the country of Aruba, of the name ‘Brian,’ as she put it. This interested me and I resonated with it. I had just gotten back from Aruba and seen and photographed the green iguanas. Then I saw the whale design on the pet store floor also. I wondered if someone drew it or it was a marking by accident. It was in a way slightly vague that I just could not exactly tell. I wasn’t sure what it all meant but it meant something.
I thought back to the past then. Working in the shelter I had to help a most beautiful woman from The Caspian Sea who was assigned to be a co-worker but was bullied by the other woman workers. It was because of her hair mostly. She had balayage hair and to her waist. It was real hair. And she was full of mystery and wonderful strange exotic eclectic auras and atmospheres. Then other women, especially during trainings when everyone had to sit together, whispered loudly and cruelly about her saying she didn’t belong there and that her hair was not real. She began to ask me long before trainings if I would get coffee with her when it was break. I realized it was not because she liked me in any even platonic or other way, but because it wasn’t too far off from being bullied in the school yard and she knew I’d be an ally. And to think, these people were assigned to helping and advocating for the marginalized. What a world we live in. She was hurt and overall sensitive. And amidst several regular souls trying to make their way, to navigate life, two known drug dealers were walking up the driveway one evening and one was really heavy-set. She said, ‘Here comes a whale,’ and it broke my idea of her as she now had a capacity for meanness. She had that capability somewhere inside her. I just kept it to myself. English was not her first language. But she managed the insult ‘well,’ though I didn’t like it.
I kept listening to the canon of near-death experiences because I studied much in my spare time about spirituality, psychology, that whole realm of topics. It often said how people didn’t want to come back,- such was how it felt at home in heaven or the other side. That was hopeful for the sick, the terminally ill, for the ones who have passed and for all of us one day…when our time and circumstance of demise arrive…
I eventually left the world as much as I could and just walked the forests and by small streams of water. There I saw what I deemed to be spirits in the tree bark, cumulus clouds, or in swaying winter reeds cold and freezing. I felt them amidst spring raindrops where I waited solitary in the world for what I don’t know. Summer spirits everywhere too,- by sumac leaves and the abandoned tractor, in the flickering light through the tree canopy or the stones by the lee, the protective lee made of sand and dirt and root systems. Autumnal times had the most, HAVE the most,- spectres, phantoms, and angels. They live everywhere. Sometimes during those times an energy can be felt, like an electric surge in the air but one more akin to containing a spiritual sensibility. Maybe it was the kundalini energy, I would think. I had seen several snakes in the early days and wondered if they were an outward manifestation of the inward kundalini rising or having risen.
It had been a long day. I lay down to sleep. I suddenly and finally saw the light, an other-worldly light,- golden and white mixed together. It was unmistakable. Then again, and a third time to be sure. I was growing spiritually after a lifetime of practice. I was grateful. I prayed to see it more. I did a bit. Then I must have fallen asleep and finally had good dreams again. I dreamt I was by the old shore and the saltwater sea. The one of my youth. It was overcast. Atlantic coastline. I was alone but felt so good about it. I glanced back at my building, then up and down the shoreline and finally out to the horizon. I felt the energy of the world, like in the forest but times a hundred or more, and it seemed it was another world,- an electric heaven. I could see distant verdant palm fronds dancing awkwardly for the pre-storm winds. I went in the water up to my neck and sometimes went intentionally under and let the ocean go a bit into my mouth and my eyes. That way it could enter my soul. I was unafraid. I was just unafraid of absolutely anything. I didn’t know if I was on earth or in heaven, experiencing this world or the next, immersed in a dream or kissed by providence and fortune and therefore there in real life.
