alabanza

we will say alabanza

to her loving heart

that always beat

as one with ours.

her eyes melded

into our minds

stone within us.

di su nombre

across the world,

let her breathe

with the sound
of our voices
coming in unison
conteniendo su alma.
she will live forever
in our one corazón
wrapping us tight
with all her love
hoy, mañana,
y siempre.

My dear sister Madina,  
In the sky’s clear embrace today,  
A melody echoes in a long, soft way.  
Thank you, dear teacher, for all that you gave,  
For sharing your knowledge, so wise and so brave.  

This world is flawed without you, my guide,  
In subjects so needed, you walked by my side.  
Because of you, I’ve come this far,  
Turning the pages of books full of stars.  

You showed me myself, took me by the hand,  
Even when I strayed, you’d patiently stand.  
For me, you’ve given your everything whole,  
Enduring the burdens, like my mother’s soul.  

My teacher, my father, so grand in your grace,  
I sing out your praises, with rhythm I chase.  
Madina, my teacher, you’re the best there could be,  
My spring in full bloom, you’re the summer to me.  

With you here, I smile and live without fear,  
One day, I’ll be just like you, that is clear.  
The world will look on, admiring us both,  
I’ll pave the ground with flowers, to show you my oath.  

In my heart, you’ll stay cherished forever,  
From you, I’ll take lessons, growing more clever.  
My being and soul are alive by your grace,  
Each time I see you, my heart starts to race.  

Grateful am I for you, my dear guide,  
Let my voice soar to the heavens, far and wide.  
Your name, I’ll make into a tale of my own,  
Each time I see you, joy brightly is shown.  

Madina, my world, you light up my skies,  
Like the lovely basil by the water lies,  
With you, every moment of life is so sweet,  
Stay well, dear teacher, my heart skips a beat.

I am Sobirjonova Rayhona, a 10th-grade student at the 8th General Secondary School in Vobkent district, Bukhara region. I was born in December 2008 in Chorikalon village, Vobkent district, into an educated family.

Late Summer Pastoral

(Forest, Stable, Field, Red Brick Home, Barn, and Forest Once More)

There was only the road, and on the sides gravel, 3/4 inch crushing as they called it. Nice, though the eye and mind and spirit does scan the atmosphere for something. A hawk glides overhead. Blue air, and white wispy clouds. Then a stable. It’s always there, of course, if you go that way. 

‘I forget about that place. It does hide though. You think it’s here but you have passed it. Or…you think you have passed it but it is here.’ There is a horse and a donkey and a goat. They stand and are in the sun and there is some kind of table and it’s quiet looking by and by and peaceful seeming. Beyond is woodlands. When it rains they must go inside. When it’s cold they must go inside, no? And at night also. They have a design upon the wall outside, like a star, but not an esoteric or symbolic star of any sort, that’s just its aura, just a simple happy star because the sign is symmetrical, handsome, and it fits. Suddenly there is a field. Some tall reeds at the sides. And its spaciousness is good for the eye. ‘Those are hay barrels,’ she says. 

‘Aren’t they called bales? I thought ‘bales,’ but people might call them barrels also. I don’t know.’

They are yellow and rolled up, left nicely spaced and foiled against things. I’d say there was a bird on one but there was not. After, in a second, a small looking red brick house. 

‘It’s quite in from the road,’ I mention, ‘just somehow better, more private, spaced out, and if there was ever a cat or dog it’s much safer being away from roads further in on property.’ 

I imagine times before, when people went into town only sometimes for supplies, and called it ‘Going into town,’ or even after, when there was no Sunday shopping, only family and church. I don’t know if that’s good or bad though, I just imagine the times. Back further and onward, but part of it all, sits a humongous barn, set on a concrete form and stones, showing several windows and the sides are yellow, but a pale yellow almost white. What’s in there? I realize I don’t know well enough anyone like a farmer or ranch owner. I can’t roam those areas and get photography or stories or poems. What a shame, as each of the places is a world and there are surely worlds within worlds and worlds within them. What of the rain barrels or feral cats, or the vines that have grown somewhere or groups of unexpected wildflowers? Surely one or some have a stream hidden somewhere far in back, and what of the flora and fauna and atmosphere around there and the washed stones or the moss or anything at all? I guess there are red rocks and ones and yellow also, like in that stream I used to see by the far forest trail. Then it ends in the sense that the forest begins again, begins for real at once. I see tall trees and imagine for seconds the deer, coyotes, foxes, even wild rabbits or little birds, birds alighting briefly in trees to look around at the shaded worlds.

GOD’S TREE OF THE SPIRIT

Scripture: Psalm 52:8 (NIV)- “But I am like an olive tree, flourishing in the house of God; I trust in God’s unfailing love for ever and ever.”

Message: God’s promise to me has allowed me to flourish over the decades. His love keeps me on the path of righteousness. Like the olive tree, there is nourishment in my spirit daily. Moment by moment the Holy Spirit surrounds me, directing my path to eternal life.
It is faith given to me to love God without reservation. Trust was absolute in my life. God’s grace has allowed me to be taught the greatness of His love. This gift of His grace was freely given to me.

Jeremiah 17:7-8 states; Blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord.” Jesus Christ, God’s holy Son, teaches me to love the Father. My soul receives nourishment and is refreshed in the seasons of rain. God’s love has brought everlasting joy through Jesus Christ’s sacrifice on the cross leading to salvation and redemption for all. Once my soul was renewed, the world faded into darkness, which allowed the Lord’s light to transform my service to Him. Now the freedom of life here on earth preparing me for my eternal life with the Father. I am now resting in the full confidence of having been accepted in the Kingdom of Heaven.

Prayer: My soul has returned to you for you are merciful. The world is full of darkness, decay, and turmoil. Give us peace and guide us to your Kingdom. We know you are loving, merciful and full of grace. We ask that you do not forsake us, for your Son Jesus Christ has prepared a table for all who honor and praise you and give you glory.
Amen.

I’M TRULY TIRED OF YOU ALL

The wound in my heart,  
When will it heal, I don’t know,  
No cure exists for this pain,  
No doctor’s found it, though.  

My enemies wait for me to break,  
They open the door to betrayal’s wake.  
Maybe now, it’s finally enough,  
I’M TRULY TIRED OF YOU ALL.  

You fear not God’s wrath above,  
Even poison you’d gladly shove.  
Tell me, when will you turn to grace?  
I’M TRULY TIRED OF YOU ALL!  

In front, you stand as if you’re strong,  
Behind, you stab—like you’ve all along.  
On my path, you scatter thorns,  
I’M TRULY TIRED OF YOU ALL!!  

I’m the bad one, go ahead and claim,  
Keep saying you’re the victor of the game.  
Gossip about me, add to my blame,  
I’M TRULY TIRED OF YOU ALL.  

Murodillayeva Mohinur is a 10th-grade student at the 44th General Secondary School of G’uzor district, Qashqadaryo region.