On Half-believing News Reports the US is Returning to Bagram
So, we are creeping back like Jeff Bridges
in The Old Man
In the Shomali Valley where seasons occurred
before men came to feel and name them
Afghanistan’s gnarled finger of time points
to another invader returning
As a soar of C-17 Globemasters appears above mountains
and drops to Bagram
But in the orchards and fields spread around the airfield
veiled women in headscarfs, men in tunics barely notice,
Hardly look up, at the power of American dollars
flying over them, winning over even their Supreme Leader
With his hardened Deobandi heart and impoverished
country of poor workers, beggars, sadistic soldiery
****
We won’t return to give them any kind of government
in the image of democracy — already tried, failed
We won’t do anything to let women escape their homes,
no longer cover their faces, swallow their tongues
Whatever geopolitical motivation: attack plans against Iran,
because China’s an hour away, a combat boot pivot to Asia
No matter the reason, whatever massive grease payment
to these turbaned, hard-bitten America-haters
Let the cargo planes land, let soldiers climb back into guard
towers, let the Apache helos circle,
Seal teams hike mountains to clear attackers, let data
from satellites rain down again to decryption receivers,
Just use this offer-the-Taliban-can’t-refuse power for one
noble human thing, too: make them let girls go back to school
A US Army combat veteran, Steven Croft lives on a barrier island off the coast of Georgia. His latest chapbook is At Home with the Dreamlike Earth (The Poetry Box, 2023). His work has appeared in online and print journals and has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net.
Hope
It's the darkest and heaviest days
I've witnessed in my life.
The night is so bleak
And the day is so pale
The earth shakes under our feet
And the sky is swamped with innocent flying souls.
But our faith is stalwart
Like the rooted mountains.
The sun will rise again
And the settlers will leave my stolen land.
The hideous and notorious occupation will end
And all free people around the world will celebrate
A new era of freedom
They'll gather in Palestine,
The flags will wave
And the sweets will be served.
Gaza
Here's Gaza, where hunger becomes a killer,
The buzzing drones become a chronic disease,
and coldness becomes a knife
In the heart of homelessness,
The destruction becomes the witness to the crime.
No flour, no bread, no medicine, no children's milk,
No fuel, no power, no hospitals, no schools,
No safety, nothing except death.
Gaza is starving,
Destroyed, punished,
tortured every minute, hour, day.
It's not a war,
It's a collective execution to a whole land,
an entire people and a complete life.
Ahmed Miqdad (b. 1985) is a Palestinian poet resident of Gaza. He has a B.A. in English and a Master in Education. Ahmed is the author of three collections of poetry (Gaza Narrates Poetry (2014), Stolen Lives (2015) and When Hope Is not Enough (2019)) and a novel Falastin: The Hope of Tomorrow (2018). The latest poetry collection is The Shadow: Poems for the Children of Gaza. He has witnessed over three wars and severe aggression by Israeli forces on the Palestinian people since the 1980s with a huge loss of life. He writes and publishes to raise consciousness about the Palestinian cause."
The water, once a crystalline mirror reflecting the infinite blue,
has become a distorted reflection,
a broken mirror showing a sick,
contaminated face, full of chemical scars.
The forests, once majestic,
stand like naked skeletons,
their dry branches whispering a silent agony,
a lament for lost life.
The cities, giants of concrete and steel,
have been transformed into oppressive cages,
imprisoning life in their labyrinth of asphalt,
suffocating the breath of nature.
A dull echo, a stifled cry,
rises from the earth,
a deep lament that barely reaches our ears,
deafened by the noise of industry,
by the constant hum of technology.
Seeds of destruction, sown with indifference,
with greed, spread with the wind,
reaping a toxic future, a future where life withers,
where beauty fades.
Time, inexorable, flows like a slowly emptying hourglass,
watching us with an impassive gaze,
a silent witness to our destruction.
But in the deepest darkness, a spark of hope persists.
A green shoot, timid and fragile,
pushes its way through the cracks in the asphalt,
defying the gray monotony.
A solitary flower, a resilient tree,
a sign of life that resists death.
A faint but firm echo whispers in the wind,
an echo of hope that rises above lament,
a song to the possibility of regeneration,
a call to action, to responsibility, to transformation.
Nature, wounded but not defeated,
extends a hand to us, a last chance.
The future is not yet written…
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.
This anthology contains work from Synchronized Chaos’ contributor Graciela Noemi Villaverde and may be ordered here.
Curated by John P. Portelli, Unsilenced: Poems for Palestine brings together poets from Palestine, the diaspora, and globally—including renowned names like Fady Joudah, Leila Marshy and Marwan Makhoul alongside some 50 international poets.
This collection is not just a book—it’s a fundraiser. 100% of proceeds will go to support Gaza, providing support and solidarity.
Haroon Rachid contemplates his country’s potential turn towards war, vowing to hold onto his humanity through culture, thought, and study. Bahora Bakhtiyorova reminds us of the impending challenge and risk of climate change. Ahmed Miqdad despairs of life in war-torn Gaza as Maria Miraglia mourns and rages about the loss of children. Mykyta Ryzhykh speaks to the trauma of surviving wartime as a civilian as well as the grief of romantic rejection and heartbreak. Mesfakus Salahin portrays a person who has lost his humanity and become like an automaton in the face of trauma. Elisa Mascia speaks to the challenges of holding onto truth and authenticity in a harsh world.
Eva Petropoulou Lianou, in a piece translated into Albanian by Eli Llajo, shares a sensitive soul’s reflection on living in a harsh world. Brooks Lindberg addresses the limitations of being in space and time with a human body. David Sapp speaks in his poetry to some of the ever-present anguish of being human: mortality and grief, anxiety and trauma, as Steven Bruce poetically expresses lonesomeness and acknowledges the inevitability of death. J.J. Campbell vents about a variety of physical, emotional, and relational pain and loneliness as Liliana Mirta Ramirez writes evocatively of an impending storm.
Soumen Roy explores both the expansive sense of feeling at one with the universe and joining in its creative energy and the despair and emptiness we feel at other times. In a similar vein, Lidia Chiarelli speaks both to the fanciful whimsy of dreams coming to life and the urgency of preserving our environment before it becomes a wasteland. Mahbub Alam also references tragedy and restoration in the human and natural world as Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa speaks to the joy of unity among people of different backgrounds and the futility of revenge.
We find solace in a variety of places.
Dr. Jernail S. Anand illuminates the healing and restorative power of poetry as Sayani Mukherjee takes joy in verse as a bee does landing on a juicy and fragrant flower. Elisa Mascia celebrates a fresh flowering of creativity.
Murrodullayeva Makharram offers her rapturous joy at a dream visit to Mecca and the Kaaba. Maria Miraglia’s poetry explores religious doubt and the staying power of cultural belief. Izmigul Nizomova’s short story illustrates how spiritual faith can help people process intense feelings of romantic passion or grief, as Maja Milojkovic speaks to her belief in an ever-present God.
Dr. Ahmad Al-Qaisi takes pleasure in the simple joy of coffee with a friend as Kareem Abdullah crafts tender love poetry and Christopher Bernard’s poetic speaker vows to love their honest-to-a-fault friend even if love is complete foolishness. Shoxista Haydarova pays tribute to her loyal and caring father, as Manik Chakraborty reflects on the nurture of his mother. Murodullayev Umidjon speculates on the nature of friendship. Umarova Nazokat celebrates a mother’s tender love as Nurullayeva Ra’no highlights mothers’ care, devotion, and concern for their children and Dr. Jernail Anand reflects on the vital role of mothering. Maftuna Rustamova reminds us to honor and respect our parents because of the love and care they have shown us, as Graciela Noemi Villaverde describes the unique personalities of each of her beloved grandsons. Chimezie Ihekuna turns to the loyalty of family as a balm for human vulnerability as Priyanka Neogi speaks to the love and responsibilities of marriage.
Image c/o Isabel Gomez de Diego
Duane Vorhees’ poetry explores physical and romantic intimacy while digging deep into the self. Michael Todd Steffen presents a memorial tribute that’s a character sketch of a strong and driven person with plenty of personal agency, for good or ill.
Taylor Dibbert asserts his newfound self-love after years of experience. Babajonova Charos draws inspiration from Pablo Coelho’s characters’ journeys to self-actualization and intimacy in The Alchemist. Alan Catlin crafts a literary and personal narrative through a list of memories.
Self-respect can encompass more than merely the self, and many writers take pride in their cultures. Marjona Mardonova reflects on the strength and dignity of Uzbek women and girls as several elementary school students in China contribute poetic thoughts on their hometowns, nature, heritage, and inspiration. Rizal Tanjung translates into Indonesian an essay by Konstantin Fahs on how ancient myths still speak to Greece’s contemporary struggles and questions of identity, highlighting the universal nature of these questions.
Z.I. Mahmud explores themes of racism, misogyny, and Black women’s reasserted dignity and healing in Alice Walker’s The Color Purple. Daniel De Culla presents a tale of vigilante justice served at an aquarium.
Image c/o Kylian Cubilla Gomez
Bruce Roberts recollects the decorum and honor he saw in the days of American president Abraham Lincoln and laments how far the United States has fallen since then.
Uzbek writer Azizbek Shaymurzayev celebrates and honors the soldiers and leaders who founded Uzbekistan. Dilbek Ergashev offers up a poetic tribute to Uzbek writer Muhammad Yusuf, who captured the nation’s heritage and met an untimely death. Shamsiya Khudoynazarova Turumovna finds elegance in a portrait of a woman reading.
Dr. Perwaiz Sharharyar, in poetry translated by Maria Miraglia, highlights the world-expanding power of travel. Vo Thi Nhu Mai’s gentle poetry celebrates animals, the world’s children, and the vibrant multicultural city of Perth.
Latofat Amirova craves a life of rebellion, curiosity, and adventure while Jacques Fleury probes the uncanny dark motifs of Edgar Allan Poe’s creative genius.
In a similar spirit of artistic exploration, Texas Fontanella contributes some exploratory beats and guitar chords. Vernon Frazer’s new book Nemo Under the League, reviewed by Cristina Deptula, splashes together text, line, and image. Terry Trowbridge grows a fanciful poem about a potato facing surveillance and arrest as Zeboxon Akmalova’s poem reflects the experience of overhearing fragments of conversation as J.K. Durick explores our reactions to words, sounds, and numbers in daily life. Mark Young’s “geographies” explore fanciful locations as works of art.
Finally, Bill Tope’s short story satirizes the world of small magazine publishing and reminds us all not to take rejections too seriously. Humor can prove one of the small, and larger, ways we hold onto our humanity as we navigate this world.
Flower
The beautiful white of musked roses
Smelled heavenly as I longed to see
A bright torpedo colour of blue skim
The butterfly vision over me
As I stranded over the cliffs of greenery
I swam a great high
Poetry is like flower
Bright beautiful pansies in a summer day
The long twisted hauled letters smiled at me
The mailed by the night circus of grappling intensity
As I turned around and saw the zeal of monsoon rain
Little sprinkled water of bucketed truth
As the flowers fell over my tip toed joy.
I realized that I must live like a debtor, I am a chosen servant among thousands, I cannot go away like a stone falling into the water, I am not created by ordinary people, I am like that!
Don’t give me peace! Don’t give me obedience! Give me rebellion, give me struggle! Don’t give me excuses! Give me courage! Give me creation! Don’t give me light!
In the eyes that fall, there is a flowery poem, Or a white sweat on my forehead, Although I live as dust, earth, Being like a mountain under the feet of those who trample me!
Do not expect, despise, or praise anyone, Raise me, O Lord, give me your hand, Do not let my life be decided in the hands of the lowly, Give me the way to start great caravans!
*** Wiser thoughts have filled your mind, Life’s lesson is the most difficult lesson, Your bosses have led you to mirages, Sometimes you sow wheat when you don’t reap it!
You have been waiting for happiness from those who have lost everything, Your life has been tied to a long caravan of dreams, From those who have collected pearls in your eyes, Now give up hope and turn to your destiny!
You will laugh at your bitter fate, Your loved ones who have fallen from your heart, Your tears that have dried up like the moisture on the tip of your eyelashes, Your ones that have burned in the chaos of times!
You are a fleeting fragment like a cloud in the sky, You pour out your heart to the rains, While I connect my heavy chest to your heart, If only I could pick your sorrows like flowers…
University
My sorrows fade away as the years pass, My life seeks happiness in your eyes, If I step into the arms of snow, my thirsty soul, If my wild imagination and restless thoughts freeze…
I would like mountains as high as my soul, If the sky falls, I would be proud of my chest! I will reach my feelings in a chaotic way, If I build a path from your memories… The streets are green… The night is dark… The whispers of the rain say your name, The curtains drawn over my heart are dim, Recall the distant past to me.
Poplars… Alley… Hazy street… A gaze that falls like an eyeball on the ground… The first shiver… The first kiss… The full moon night… The dear university that brought us together… My tears are a puddle under the trees, My longing has filled my heart, The path that leads to your bosom, O God, My heart has been entangled…
*** Was it a dream or a fog that I was so distracted by, Waiting for a companion on an incomprehensible path, My eyes filled with tears, I lived my whole life as autumn..
Am I a leaf or one that fell prematurely?! Crushed and broken at the foot of a hill, My sad gaze fixed on the sky, My body was buried in the dust…
I was an Eagle, right?! Ask, I was a Falcon!!! I landed on your wrist as a king – my enemy, The world was a lie, but I was real! You made me so many places, my beloved…
LIFE
Everything is repetitive, everything is old, The circle has been spinning since the dawn of time, The steps of life are faster than anything, The world is as black as your eyes, empty
I’m behind, you’re in front, in the middle is memory… The worry that has covered our face… The heart is forgetting its familiarity… What I lack is love and air…
It will rain, it will snow Seasons bring sadness, dust, Their thoughts are heavy, their moods are narrow, Can you forget a dildo like you?!
The wind asks, the thunder is loud, A soul in a distant hut, The belt is widening, the clouds are close, The sound of the drops…
I run back, my steps follow, I wake up startled, it’s all a dream, a dream… If one day I am absorbed in nothingness, if I leave, You make me like everything, my dear…
My heart is spreading, the shams are shooting arrows, A thousand and one birds do things in space, Chilly summer, cold autumn, dampness is cold Kuzacks give way to winter…
A epkin in the heart that vibrates like grass, Full of noisy silence right and left, Life is slow like tears in the eyes, The address is the late road between the eyebrows…
The address is a long way between the eyebrows!
*** To ask for mercy with such great love, Your head is like a stone, How hard it is to laugh and cry silently, One day we will see our hearts bloom like flowers on the ground…
I have become accustomed to the burdens that tear my neck, I have stopped caring about the heart-warming encouragements, I do not trust the promises that the sky kisses, I have no grudge, I will never hold a grudge against them…
Is a small cup of patience, The depths of my covenant are deep, Even the kiss of a false lover cannot be erased, Is the path of life always steep and steep?
I am leaving, my sky is raining heavily, In every struggle, my shovels have bitten the ground, Having lost heart from everyone who gave me hope, I am leaving, life has “planted” me…
It’s true that a passenger made a passenger, A lesson for someone, a fate for someone, I give a lot, I get a little in this fight, The height of the heart of a broken heart!
Did I head into spaces like air? A thousand and one mistakes in the tangled street of thoughts, Don’t let the winds blow my heart, Even if I fall, lift me up, God!
Latofat Amirova was born in 1997 in Kashkadarya region, Republic of Uzbekistan.
