William Shakespeare Look What You’ve Gone and Done, or European Starling Birds and the Winter Morning Sky Born
it was not the morning but the afternoon in actuality when all the Starlings did alight in the tree. it was however in the next morning that I remembered them and thought about them. they were still and to me, stoic for they didn’t really bother w/the wind or the world around them. the history of birds, their origin and migration routes; their interaction with rural landscapes and metropolitan areas, is as vast as the history of stamps, of books or of anything for that matter. but for me then, it was just a flock of birds in a tree. I didn’t know where they arrived from. I didn’t know what their ‘game’ was, or their ‘trick.’ I just knew that they blended in as if they were not there.
nobody jumped from branch to branch. nobody talked. nobody else arrived and nobody left. hmm. real certainly,- they didn’t seem so, and more like a painting or dream; or perhaps a moment in a poem. nice, I thought. but I am a naive one and always have been so. I decided to read about them. someone had the idea of introducing every bird Shakespeare mentioned into North America. and it turned out that though they controlled some insect problems,- the Starlings were overly aggressive and caused many problems to things like crops and even infrastructure.
I wondered about them, about the ones I had seen. maybe they were cold (I am a bleeding heart). later I glanced out there again. the Starlings had gone. only the branches remained,- vacant. and they weren’t talking either. and now the sky is born again. there used to be a Christian proselytizer that promoted his metaphysics by the lake to every manner of passerby. when the weather got bad, - cold, or a storm was coming, he would leave. it meant to me he was only an average devotee. a true captain is supposed to go down w/the ship so to speak. it is really the sky, for better or worse, that remains, not bird or person. the sky will one day whisper against reason and logic to some mystic, some seer, not, ,’Beware the Ides of March,’ but simply, ‘See. I tried to tell you. Stick with me. I am the forever kind.’
Harvest
at night the brain loves to torment me
talking to the one not here
in my body I’m trying to crawl out of my body
I’m coming to get you
night draws a bow across the brain
throat bores a hole into everything I say to you
in my body you’re trying to crawl out of your body
room piled to the ceiling with thread
the brain loves to be tied up
fireflies disappear in late August
To do
well tomorrow there won’t be any beautiful distance
between you and the still lives of hours
at least today the brain’s not watching
far above your head a jet squeals as it splits the sky
if you’ve got time to think about
the sky and what harms it
maybe you could walk farther away
maybe you could stitch back together
what’s left of the ground under your feet
The day Pan died
the day Pan died it sunshined
then puckered up like I insulted her
alright I’ll let you cut me
the day Pan died wildflowers rioted in ditches
foaming stalled white over deer bone grin
when she smiles at us broken animals
when we smile back with crowds of teeth
I tried my best as a sullied tongue
seeking what the pipes implied
soft piles drifting
we had to make everything with our hands
even our hands
The novitiate
in sleep country we count stars behind our eyes
dark engines that gasp and spark over our heads
on a pinched afternoon I’m lazy with cloud-cover
in the dark I pause at the screen door
drenched in longing from the beat of crickets
everything I will never be just out of reach
what god could be trusted with the color blue
that didn’t slip out of the woods
what novitiate lilts in bourbon-bronze fumes
on the hissing roads of sleep country we billow
our gods made of the blood of dog days
the willow sobs on my bare chest
everything I’ve ever been runs down our legs
waiting for you to fall out of the woods
As a child, on interstate trips, Lewis LaCook thought the moon was following his family’s Econoline van. Upon reaching adulthood, he couldn’t tell whether the truth disappointed or relieved him, so he started writing things down. Some of these things looked like poems, and they may have appeared in journals like Anti-Heroin Chic, Lost And Found Times, Otoliths,Unlikely Stories,Whiskey Tit, Lotus-eater, Synchronized Chaos, Argotist Online Poetry, Medusa’s Kitchen, Reapthrill, Exist Otherwise and Slope, among others. In 2012 BlazeVOX published Beyond the Bother of Sunlight, a book-length collaboration with Sheila E. Murphy; previously, Anabasis published his book-length poem Cling. His collection My Kinship with the Lotus-eaters was published in 2022 by BlazeVOX.(http://wp.blazevox.org/product/my-kinship-with-the-lotus-eaters-by-lewis-lacook/) Lewis can often be found wandering the wilds of Western New York state with his wife Lindsay.
If I were the lady of time
If I were the lady of time
I would bring peace to the souls of those who suffer
due to illnesses, but first I would make her fulfill all the dreams that have been handed down
for a better time. I would make them go and discover the many wonders
of the world, breathe the joy of being a part of this earth.
I would make them leave
happy and without suffering
atrocities that empty the heart of sensitivity every day.
Hearing violin music while dragging the cart
to go to the entrance of the temple.
If I were the lady of time…
But I'm the one who
ostentatiously trudges through life
through the streets of the local market and nothing happens
without meaning in this life of dust and a continuous
cleaning of toilets from where I take my voice to shout
the opprobrium on the things that drain me every day like blood suckers.
Indifference that kills unaware of malice
in the wealthy opulence that ties and unties ties.
If I were the lady of time
I would make a list of priorities
and I would invite to the dance first the one who is indifferent to the others.
BIOGRAPHY
Lidia Popa was born in Romania in the locality of Piatra Șoimului, in the county of Neamț, on 16th April, 1964. She finished her studies in Piatra Neamț, Romania with a high school diploma and other administrative courses, where she worked until she decided to emigrate to Italy.
She has been living for 23 years and worked in Rome as part of the wave of intellectual emigrants since the fall of the Berlin Wall.
She wrote your first poem at her age of seven. She is a poet, essayist, storyteller, recognized in Italy and in other countries for her literary activities. She collaborates with cultural associations, literary cenacles, literary magazines and paper and online publications of Romanian, Italian and international literature. She writes in Romanian, Italian and also in other languages as an exercise in knowledge.
BOOKS
She has published her poems in six books:
in Italy:
1. " Point different ( to be ) " - ed. Italian and
2." In the den of my thoughts ( Dacia ) " - ed. bilingual Romanian/ Italian AlettiEditore 2016,
3.“ Sky amphora " - ed. bilingual Romanian/ Italian EdizioniDivinafollia 2017,
in Romania:
4. " The soul of words" ed. bilingual Romanian/ Albanian Amanda Edit Verlag 2021,
5." Syntagms with longing for clover " ed. Romanian, EdituraMinela 2021.
6." The Voice interior " LidiaPopa and BakiYmeri ed. bilingual Romanian/Italian, Amanda Edit Verlag 2022.
Her poems featured in more than 50 literary anthologies and literary magazines on line from 2014 to 2023 in Italy, Romania, Spain, Canada, Serbia, Bangladesh, United Kingdom, Liban, USA, etc.
Her poems are translated into Italian, French, English, Spanish, Arabic, German, Bangladesh, Portuguese, Serbian, Urdu, Dari, Tamil, etc.
Her writings are published regularly with some magazines in Romania, Italy and abroad.
She is a promoter of Romanian, Italian and international literature, and is part of the juries of the competitions.
She translates from classical or contemporary authors who strike for the refinement and quality of their verses in the languages: Italian, Romanian, English, Spanish, French, German, stating that "it is just a writing exercise to learn and evolve as a person with love for humanity, for art, poetry and literature ".
SHE IS
*Member of the Italian Federation of Writers (FUIS)
*Honorary member of the International Literary Society Casa PoeticaMagia y Plumas Republic of Colombia,
*Member of Hispanomundial Union of Writers (Union Hispanomundial de Escritores) (UHE) and Thousands Minds For Mexico (MMMEX)
*President UHE and MMMEX Romania, August 21, 2021
*She had come power of attorney Vice-president UHE Romania, Mars18, 2021- August 21, 2021
*President UHE and MMMEX Romania, August 21, 2021
*Counselor from Italy for Suryodaya Literary Foundation Odisha India,
*Director from Italy for Alìanza Cultural Universal (ACU) Argentina
*Member Motivational Strips Oman,a member of numerous other literary groups at the level internationally,
*Director of Poetry and Literature World Vision Board of Directors (PLWV) Bangladesh
*Membership of ANGEENA INTERNATIONAL NON PROFIT ORGANISATION of Canada
International Peace Ambassador of The Daily Global Nation International Independent Newspaper from Dhaka Bangladesh - 2023
*Founder literary group Lido dell'anima with LIDO DELL'ANIMA AWARDS
*Founder LIDO DELL'ANIMA Italian magazine
*Founder SILVAE VERBORUM INTERNATIONAL multilingual magazine
*Founder literary currently #homelesspoetry
etc.
Macedon’s Alexander
born in myrrh, died in velvet
lived as verb, lived as helmet
Babylon’s fatal pander
WEATHER REPORT FOR BLIND OPTIMISTS
Proudly, dawn brings out
those debutante clouds of swan --
black vultures
are secluded
from this slack culture,
tragedy is outlawed
from all our strategies.
Gradually, stratosphere turns lapis lazzuli.
CENOZOIC
Dinosaurs didn’t stay
dinosaurs, did they?
They became chickens
and museum exhibitions.
What about us?
Hitchhikers once,
between exits,
and not yet fixed
to this landscape
of no escape.
ONCE, ONCE
At one time some people believed
that the elephants
had sex but once:
No wonder such a memory!
Once, I thought love was measured
in some mean distance of imaginary numbers
from whole digits to infinity squared.
One perfect combination. (The tumblers
turn and twist.) My sandpapered fingers
bared to the wrist. But secrets hide
in the between.
Once, love was obvious as the ebb and
flow of ocean is to charts and sailors.
(But sea, O sea – you scene of unseen
sights – you graveyard of mariners –
a gale, a new leak, or a sleeping watch,
and your white wave just swallowed me like bread
unleavened.)
Does a lemming really embrace the sea
with a lover’s greed?
To know the sea, roughly
one taste’s enough.
But what about love?
TRAD
So we pooled together our quarters
to buy a beige wedding dress
and hire a birdsong processional
and a greenwood wedding hall.
Deciding to forego a sermon,
we said those words that we meant,
and we solidified everything
with wine kisses and smoke rings.
But then this mud ball rolled below us
and moved us separate ways.
Possible Causes and Effects of Cited High Blood Pressure
[Originally published in Fleury’s book You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self]
If your Father died of heart disease
If you have Sleep Apnea
If you have irregular sleeping schedule
If you are overweight
If you have a late night binge eating habit
If you take caffeinated Energy Supplements
If you Drink Caffeinated Tea and Hot Chocolate
If you Use heavily salted spices like Chicken Bouillon Cubes
If you’re not getting enough “regular” cardio exercise
If you’re inconsistent with your daily meditation practice
If you ruminate about the past: its afflictions and perceived malfeasances
If you harbor resentments regarding sociopolitical and racial injustices
If you feel constant stings of Minority Stress through Micro Aggressions of racism
If you are BLACK!
The Only Way to See the Stars…[Originally published in Fleury’s book You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self]
I often wonder why I smile even when sad
Thudding of my heart hearkening back
To recidivist scars running my fingers
Over the scabs abrading the cut of the
Blade and making my way in a world full
Of hurt people who hurt people
A pejorative and abortive choice
So smiling instead of snarling helps me
Remember even if bliss turns to distress
To see the stars is through the darkness…
The Story of a Forgotten People ~ Rohingya~ As told by Kristy Raines and Faisal Justin
The Story of a Forgotten People ~ Rohingya~ (As told by Kristy Raines and Faisal Justin)
There are some stories that make us laugh, make us cry, teach us something, or leave a lasting impression. This story has all of this. But this is a story that for now, has no ending… Now looking back, I have to say, that I may have been the one who benefited most from this story. It will all make sense in the end… And this is where the story begins.
He goes by the name of Faisal Justin and we casually spoke while we worked in the same poetry group. We both are poets and he had written his second book of poetry called, “Poetic Healing.”
Faisal and I had a conversation one day where he began telling me about his people; The Rohingya people. I had never heard of them and when I look back, I wondered, why? I never heard about them on the news, magazines, or anywhere else. As Faisal started telling me the story, I was quite disturbed with what I was hearing. But I knew that I wanted to help in some way. I know now that sending small donations, with good intentions, is not the way, though I am sure they are very much appreciated, which I did to help the children especially. It will take so much more to make an impact. These People lost not only their homes, they lost their whole country and had to flee for their lives… Quite unbelievable.
But, I think the best way to really start this story, is to begin with the story of the genocide of the Rohingya people and how this even happened. Then I will let this unbelievable young man tell his remarkable story of how he survived in the refuge camp of Cox’s Bazar, and how his world change remarkably. I promise you, this has a happy ending for him and it is my hope that this story changes your lives and gives you a huge sense of gratitude of the word, “Freedom”. I also hope that this story prompts everyone to contact governmental entities and sign petitions to help these people return to their homeland safely or at least find them a wonderful new one of freedom. It is all of our problem.. It is a matter of what is right. The Rohingya refugee crisis is one of the worst forced displacement situations crisis in the world.
It has been seven years since over 742,000 Rohingya people, (half of whom were children), had to flee for their lives from the brutal massacres. Entire villages were burned to the ground, thousands of families were killed or separated and massive human rights violations were reported. The persecution of Rohingya Muslims in Myanmar, also known as (Burma), persisted on a regular basis by the government and Buddhist nationalists. In late 2016, Myanmar’s armed forces and police launched a major crackdown against the people in Rakhine State which is located in the country’s northwestern region.
The Burmese military has been accused of committing ethnic cleansing and genocide. More than one million Rohingya refugees have fled violence in Myanmar, in successive waves of displacement. Rohingya refugees are living in Bangladesh, with a majority settled in and around Kutupalong and Nayapara refugee camps in Bangladesh’s Cox’s Bazar region — some of the largest and most densely populated in the world. The date, August 25, 2017 to be exact, was the exodus that many remember; when they fled in horror as they watched their family members and friends being brutally murdered, raped and run out of their own country.
Now, and for many years, the camps where they exist are over crowded, filled with illness, unacceptable medical care, unclean water, no jobs and kept captive in a what I would call a prison without walls.
On top of the concerns of violence against the people, such as rape, human trafficking gang activity, starvation and losing hope, no jobs, and the cut of monthly allotments for food to 8 dollars a month, they weather the harsh climate of excessive heat, cold, cyclones and monsoons in homes made from whatever materials they can find for shelter. After this many years under these impossible living conditions, many are growing weary to go on. Some of the people living there who I have become close to have said that death would be far more better than going on.
No one in this day and age should have to live like this. Many countries in the past talk of helping them, yet to let them down over and over. Most of the people who were fortunate enough to receive an education or were aloud to go to school have started home schools, which in itself is dangerous for those that attempt to educate the young. It is illegal to do so for the Rohingya children. In a genocide, no one has rights. I give these teachers so much credit for taking the chance. And another thing. The teachers and students are extremely intelligent and so young for knowing so much. They work hard, studying. They soak up and appreciate learning. Without education the future for a thriving generation will not stand a chance.
If someone takes away education, a way to protect themselves, and tries to take away people’s religion and hope, and you have the basic recipe for a genocide. The teachers in the refugee camps get beat up and worse when they stand up to the tyranny. But yes, they keep pushing forward for the sake of the generations to come. If the people fight back, they truly pay for doing so with their lives at times, but I give them so much credit for their service. I am hoping to become a loud and helpful voice for the Rohingya people, because when the brave raise their voice, they are met with beatings, abductions and are in the path of danger for doing so. Now that is bravery. I want to raise awareness so other’s around the world will do the same. In my eyes, the Rohingya people are warriors and survivalists. They survive a inhumane life on a daily basis that no one deserves. I have gotten to know some of the Rohingya People in some of the the refugee camps and have formed bonds and friendships with some of the most wonderful people I have ever met. So many are like family to me.
Education, writing, poetry and photography have become an outlet for the youth of the Rohingya and even a form of healing. Only with awareness and help from other countries will the Rohingya get justice and hopefully a safe passage back to their homeland and a safe environment for them in their own country which they miss so much. These people have changed my life. I love so much deeper and appreciate things so much more. I was humbled by these friends I made. I have benefited greatly by meeting so many wonderful, loving, and extremely determined and forgiving people. The story now turns to one very young and brave man, and my friend, Faisal Justin, who had the drive and determination to change his destiny, and I am very honored to have him tell his story in his own words. I could never tell this story as well as he could. Thank you Faisal, for agreeing to tell your story.
Title: From Discrimination to Freedom: A Journey of Hope and Resilience ~Faisal Justin~
I was born and grew up in Key Nouck Thi village, Arakan state of Myanmar. By age 14, the tantalizing taste of freedom would forever elude my eager grasp. My childhood was a tragic nightmare and a pitiable existence that no soul should ever endure. We were forever confined into 3-4 kilometers encompassed by police checkpoints all around. It necessitated arduous permissions from the authorities to go and stay a night in a relative house in another village. The prospect of venturing into the neighboring city was strictly prohibited for those who, like me, hailed from a Muslim family and owned a title Rohingya. I spent my childhood full of insecurity for the fear of military as there were no choice for them to use as a slave. When I was a child, my parents used to console me by saying “Stop crying, my child, for the police are coming” from a very young age the deep-rooted fear of police placed in my heart.
“School is a place where teachers teach students the difference between flaws and rights” instead we were taught discrimination in school. We had to sit separately in the school benches between Buddhist students and Muslim students as instructed by the teachers. And often faced harassment from the opposite students and the teachers didn’t accept the complaints at all. Unbelievable but bitter truth. The Buddhist students held a privileged status while the Rohingya students were treated as second-class students. It’s totally heartbreaking to articulate the oppressive atmosphere extended beyond our educational institution, with police brutality, forced labor, and unspeakable violence perpetrated against my people. I still remember when I was class six, I returned from the tuition in the evening and then went to play football near my home. Suddenly, a group of military entered the village and collected bamboos from our yards. We were called from the playground and forced to carry those bamboos to the river in their boats. Regardless of the age and status, they used as salves.
My educational dream was vanished in 2017 when I was just a matriculation student. On Friday night in August 25, 2017, the militaries started gun shooting towards our homes, it was like hearing the sound of Christmas fireworks. I frighteningly woke up and wondered if I was in a nightmare but it was in real. Hundreds of thousands of people were killed and homes were burned down to the ground. I had no hope of surviving in this world and I was quite sure that my dead was on that Friday. I already recited the dead Dua and ready to die with that gun bullets as there were no ways to rescue myself. There were also records that the whole families were killed. The 10th day of journey to Bangladesh refugee camps was something that awakens my heart every second. Through muddy roads and slippery high mountains consumed our tears and blood during monsoon, heavy rain and thunderstorms. It was the hardest thing we’ve ever found leaving home and looking back around stepping slowly filled with tears and heartache. My eyes witnessed that hundreds of thousands of our people were killed even during our journey to finding refuge and some of us were fortunate enough to escape the massacre and sought refuge in neighboring Bangladesh.
I’ll remain ever grateful to the welcoming country Bangladesh for giving a place of refuge in their country while we were fighting with our lives.
“Being a refugee was not a choice. By fate I needed to be.”
I can’t describe in words how bad it feels to having a refugee life and having a refugee status. The Bangladesh refugee camp was a place of desperation, with overcrowded tents, curfews, scarcity of food, and rampant criminal activity within. The loss of formal education for children and the constant fear of abduction added further challenges to an already dire situation. $8 per month for a person, can you imagine how a person can survive on 8 US dollars the whole month? Many suffered from starvation and also many lacked basic necessities.
I’ve worked as a humanitarian and social worker for ICR (International Rescue Committee) and ACF (Action Contre la Fame). I was a teacher, sharing what I know with the community was my liability. I listened to everyone’s stories in the camp by monitoring door to door when I worked for NGOs. I was so devastated hearing all the awful and obstacles in the lives of my people. I couldn’t help but feel. I found a new challenge every single day that demotivated me to even give up on life. The perpetrators in the camp abhorred educated people, gave death threats and sometimes some even carried them out. Such a distressing situation forced me to leave the camp by any means possible.
Driven by a desire for freedom and a better life, I discussed with my family and left the camp. I can’t forget the moment I stepped on the little boat and the waves badly shoved and lifted the boat. The boat was more likely to sink in the middle of the sea and that was another moment of my life when I lost hope of my life. With a very narrow mind and relentlessly calling upon God, finally I could get my destination. This treacherous journey took one night and one day across the sea to ultimately find Sittwe, a city in Arakan state. I was playing with my life and took very serious risk while I was going to Yangon the bustling capital of Myanmar from Sittwe after one week with a fake ID by plane.
However, life in Yangon presented its own set of challenges, from language barriers to lack of legal documentations. Forced to rely on the kindness of relatives, I navigated these adversities and eventually obtained a national identity card, which became a turning point in my journey. People who don’t know about me think I had the best life in Yangon. My life in Yangon was the worst of my life so far. I was in constant fear of the police without proper documentation, belonging a Muslim face and staying in someone else’s house. As a very sensitive man, I can’t tolerate sharp words from others but I had to bear according to the situations.
After six months, I went to the passport office to get a passport. Unfortunately, the authorities knew I was a fake guy trying to make a passport. My life was then in their hands, I was threatened a lot. After few hours they agreed to release me with money fine. The day passed and I returned home. I can’t explain by words how bad I felt as my life was at risk even to stay at home and my relatives were also afraid of keeping me. I had nowhere to go and I often decided to give up on my life.
With determination fueling my patience and actions, I sought an opportunity to escape my troubled past and made another attempt to make a passport with an agent after two months. With the help of the agent, I obtained a passport.
I embarked on a heart-stopping journey to leave my fearful country Myanmar. Faced with the constant fear of being discovered due to language barriers and fake documents during immigrating Myanmar airport, my life was in a very serious risk and danger. But along with God’s help I could overcome the fear and could cross all those limits. My resilience and bravery were tested at every step.
I came to Thailand by plane from Myanmar and tried hard for a Netherlands visa, I failed terribly. I couldn’t get a visa. I went to four different countries just to get a Netherlands visa. I got one from a country and I was so excited but when my time came to attend the plane I was inhumanely rejected saying you’re not eligible for the Netherlands. My world was shattered and I almost felt unconscious. However, I did not give up trying to seek asylum in the Netherlands. I made one more attempt from another country then I got approved fortunately. And then I arrived at the Netherlands airport and asked for asylum.
The arrival in the Netherlands marks the beginning of a new chapter in my life. Grateful for the opportunities and support provided by the Dutch government, I find solace and peace in my newfound refuge. The process of seeking asylum may be long, but I express my heartfelt gratitude for the freedom and safety I have found in this welcoming country.
Looking back on my arduous journey, I reflect on the invaluable lessons I have learned throughout this transformative experience. My unwavering determination and resilience have taught me the power of perseverance and the ability to overcome even the most daunting obstacles. I express my eternal gratitude to the Netherlands and share my belief in the importance of embracing diversity and extending a helping hand to those in need.
In concluding my remarkable story, I leave readers with a message of hope and a reminder that, despite the challenges we face, anything is possible with a brave and willing heart. By standing up for one’s dreams and never giving up, individuals can triumph over the darkest of circumstances. My poignant tale may encourage readers to remember the importance of empathy, compassion, and the pursuit of a better world for all.
Update~
After a year in the Netherlands, I see yet another massive massacre in Arakan like I saw in 2017. I’m deeply saddened and distressed by the plight of the Rohingya’s in Arakan, Myanmar. It’s not so easy to be born in Myanmar where religion matters, race matters, face matters, above all being born as a Muslim is a big crime for the brutal government. Since decades, the government has been persecuting the Rohingya people and now again AA (Arakan Army) a terrorist group of Rakhine ethnic who are trying to take over Arakan are persecuting the Rohingya people. Dozens of people are killed every day, houses are burnt down. Thousands of people are now homeless in the town of Bhuthidang since the AA set fire to the entire town in May 2024. People had to leave the homes they loved and thousands died at the same time. Imagine hundreds and thousands of people staying on the ground without a roof in the baking heat with no food and even humanitarian actors with no way to reach them for some livelihood. All the roads are blocked by the AA and they take pleasure in seeing the suffering of these defenseless people.
The horrific acts of violence and brutality by the AA and military are truly heartbreaking. I’m very saddened and angry to see the profound suffering experienced by the innocent Rohingya victims. The pain and anguish felt by young girls being raped, young people being arrested or disappearing, and children losing their parents and then turning into orphans are genuinely heart-wrenching. I’m furious to see both AA and military taking refuge in Rohingya’s villages by the intention of harming innocent Rohingya people. Thousands of people died during the war and conflict between AA and military. Rohingya youths are arrested by the military and then used them as human shield during war against AA. In due time the AA burnt down the houses of Rohingya and brutally tortured. It clearly highlights how the innocent are often caught in the crossfire of political and ideological battles.
Their true intention is to clear all the Rohingya people from Arakan. The brutal killings and targeted violence aimed at wiping out the Rohingya people speak to a larger, more insidious plan to eradicate an entire group of people. The way they are killing now inhumanly, all the people will finish very soon. It’s a gentle reminder of the urgent need for the global community to step in and take decisive action to protect the fundamental rights and dignity of all individuals, regardless of their background or ethnicity or who they are. It is a reminder that the world must unite in solidarity to confront and address these grave injustices before it is too late. – Faisal Justin
A Day in A Refugee Camp
As the sun rises and sets
Baking heat waves on the roof
The tents that are too small
Skins boil under tarpaulins
Family gathering suffocates
A day in refugee camp isn’t easy
With limited head-count rations
The desire to have something died
For they have rations not income
A day is long and very hopeful
And is filled with waiting and fret
A life that goes with full of tears
Children play in the dirt,
With the mud as the toys.
Their education is obscure And the future is uncertain
Parents smile through tears
Trying to make the children happy
With fears, stress and anxiety
A life in refugee camp passes by
Wondering what tomorrow will bring
For a life and future that is unsure
Since they’re displaced from home,
And forced to migrate violently.
The sun will rise again tomorrow
Another day in the camp will begin
With the same hope and fears
Constantly dream of a better life
The outside world is just an illusion
And always yearn to live a peaceful life
In conclusion, I would like to thank Faisal Justin for sharing his story of hope and bravery, with the world. This was truly an amazing journey to not only a new life, but also to many more opportunities. His story will no doubt inspire others to hold tight to their dreams and to never give up.
It is also my hope, Faisal, that your story will also help others around the world understand the Rohingya people, the horrific crimes committed against them that still going on today, the crisis in the refugee camps, and the ongoing suffering of the Rohingya people. I wish for justice for what they have gone through and hope in the future there will be a complete resolution for them, with one day, a safe return to their homeland, Arakan.
Faisal, You are now in a safe and healthy environment, my friend. I hope you will now be able to lead a beautiful and happy new life. It was a pleasure working together on this story, Faisal. Thank you..
-Kristy Raines-
If anyone is interested in donating to help the Rohingya people, there are many Go-Fund-Me campaigns online, collecting funds to help in aiding different needs of the Rohingya people. Some are emergency campaigns, some are for the women, and some are for the education of the children. Just go to Gofundme.com and type in the search, “Rohingya”. Many campaigns will show up and you can choose whose campaign you’d like to donate to. For me, they are the best choice. I feel more comfortable that my money is actually going to the people.
For more information, please visit the Holocaust Museum in Washington D.C to see exhibition in person, or go to the site to see and see it. Here is the link.
Photo of a reddish-brown haired and smiling woman with a necklace and black and white tank top next to a man with brown hair and a collared blue shirt.
TODAY, WITHOUT YOU
Talk to me, as if you don't know anything.
Recognize me, as a woman in a poem
I will go find your music,
Please turn the sound down, it's too loud.
Turn your gaze to mine
A halo of hope would have been enough.
How much winter threatens to freeze your skin,
It would be enough to finish the time
The moment your eyes closed.
Today without you, I only feel cold
Frequent uncertainty
Shadow gaps
Fear that paralyzes
You are no longer...
A thousand voices shout at me and I dissolve in them
You burst like a whip into my wounded side.
I arrived crying...
I look for you in the house,
I hug a sigh.
I look at the horizon that doesn't know
Where I lost the memory,
Your absence embraces me,
The tide of tears does not pause.
And so I fall asleep, while your
Dear husband
Rest in peace
June 20, 2024
GRACIELA NOEMI VILLAVERDE is a writer and poet from Concepción del Uruguay (Entre Rios) Argentina, based in Buenos Aires She graduated in letters and is the author of seven books of poetry, awarded several times worldwide. She works as the World Manager of Educational and Social Projects of the Hispanic World Union of Writers and is the UHE World Honorary President of the same institution Activa de la Sade, Argentine Society of Writers. She is the Commissioner of Honor in the executive cabinet IN THE EDUCATIONAL AND SOCIAL RELATIONS DIVISION, of the UNACCC SOUTH AMERICA ARGENTINA CHAPTER.
