Emily as Men of Science Waste Their Lives

No matter the reward

of knowing,

the incredible things

can only nurse us

when they’re in

our mouths.

I cannot chorus

with any other man.

I’m busy, with Emily.

Emily as a Suit of Gold

Whenever

I’m given

an opportunity

to wear Emily

I am to be

witnessed

& remembered

for the excess

of her love.

Emily as an Owl in the Morning

The light is staggering,

but she can still see me

even when I hide from her.

Soft whispers in the darkest night.

A mother’s love shines like a guiding light.

A woman of pure nature, full of love’s might.

Thinking, speaking, in affection’s delight.

Her heart is as deep as the heavens above.

Filled with feelings and love.

A labour of endless love.

Mother, a colorful phenomenon, magical and bright.

A faultless projection of paradise, a wondrous sight.

As the Quran says, “Show gratitude to Me and to your parents dear” (31:14).

And the Prophet’s words, “Paradise lies at the feet of your mother”.

So dear.

She offers glassfuls of love to all.

A nurturing spirit that stands tall.

With a heart full of affection, she guides us through life.

A mother’s love, a precious gift, a treasure so bright.

She’s a multi-dimensional mirror, reflecting divine beauty, rare.

A reliable blessing for humanity, beyond compare.

In her presence, hearts find peace and rest.

A mother’s love, forever etched in our breasts.

So let’s cherish and honour our mothers with glee.

For their love and care, are blessings to you and I.

Hassan Musa Dakasku, is a Nigerian writer, a passionate advocate for youth well-being and a performance poet, He is an author based on vulnerability and of a personal blog.

The Role and Responsibility of Youth in Society

The development of every nation and society is directly connected with its youth. Today, young people play an important role not only in shaping the future but also in building the present. One of the main duties of youth in society is to develop a sense of responsibility.

Responsibility is not just about saying, “I’ll do it,” or “It’s my turn.” It means understanding that one’s actions affect society, family, and the people around them. For example, gaining knowledge is not only a personal need but also a duty to society, because an educated person is the one who makes crucial decisions that shape the future.

Nowadays, there are plenty of opportunities to study, learn new languages, acquire professions, and create useful projects. However, these opportunities are open only to those who work hard on themselves. That is why young people should not waste their time; even small steps taken every day toward self-development lead to great results over time.

Currently, there are about 1.2 billion people aged between 15 and 24 in the world — roughly 16% of the global population. Recent events around the world show that the role of youth is not limited to education or employment. Issues such as climate change, digital security, migration, and the consequences of the pandemic are forcing all nations to think in new ways. In these matters, the most active group is the youth — because they are the generation that will witness the results of today’s decisions with their own eyes.

Every young person should ask themselves these questions each day:• What have I learned today? Whom have I helped today?• What kind of mark am I leaving for the future? Each person should be able to reflect on their actions, because true growth begins with understanding and taking responsibility for one’s own choices.

Bekturdiyeva Nargizabonu was born on December 7, 2007, in Khiva city, Khorezm region. She graduated from Secondary School No. 12 with a gold medal. She is currently a first-year student at Urgench State University named after Abu Rayhan Beruni.

Purgatory

I sit in circles

I think in spirals

Never Ending

Never somewhere new

Life is a cage

After is purgatory

Freedom is fake

Peace is dead

I sit on an empty train

It’s cold

Never reaching a

Stop.

I haven’t eaten in months

Nor have I drank

Not since I arrived

A loaded gun lay

Taunting me for months

The thought of oblivion

Cold steel against my head

A scythe against my neck

“I am already dead,”

I say to myself

“So what comes after?”

No reply

I put the gun down

Fear

Despite

Despite Starvation

Despite Thirst

Despite Boredom

Fear

Rustamova Shakhnoza Umidbek qizi, 1st-year Master’s student at Webster University. Photo above is of a young Central Asian woman with a long dark ponytail, gray coat, and white top.

Tree of Patience

In a small village lived a young man named Qudrat. His family was poor but rich in love. Qudrat’s childhood was filled with hard work — in summer he worked in the fields, in winter he gathered firewood. From an early age, he understood one thing: life never hands you happiness ready-made; everything must be earned through patience and effort.

In that village, most people believed that “a good education is only for the rich,” and poor children simply accepted their fate. But Qudrat was different. He held his old books close and studied late into the night by lamplight — sometimes even in darkness when the candle burned out.

His mother often said:

— “Son, don’t strain your eyes. Accept your fate. You’ll never achieve much.”

But Qudrat would smile and answer:

— “Mother, a person’s fate is like a tree of patience. If you don’t plant it and water it, it will never bear fruit. I will take care of my tree.”

Years passed. Qudrat finished school and dreamed of studying in the big city — but he needed money. Still, he didn’t give up: he worked on construction sites by day and read books at night. His friends shook their heads at him.

— “You’re wasting your time,” they said. “The city’s doors will never open for you.”

But Qudrat whispered to himself:

— “With enough patience, even mountains will move.”

Life tested him. One day, he injured his leg at work and couldn’t walk for months. But even then, he didn’t abandon his books. “The body may hurt, but if the spirit is strong, the path will be found,” he told himself.

Finally, his dream came true — he was admitted to university. Life in the city was hard: paying rent, saving money for food… Sometimes bread and water were all he had. But whenever hunger made his vision blur, he remembered one phrase:

— “The tree of patience does not bear fruit in a single day.”

Years went by. Qudrat learned not only knowledge but also patience. Each difficulty became a lesson: a delayed stipend taught endurance, a cold room taught resilience, loneliness taught self-belief.

After graduation, he returned to his village with big dreams. The village children now looked at him differently — the poor boy who once planted his “tree of patience” had grown into a wise, educated man.

One day, a group of young people approached him and asked:

— “Brother Qudrat, how did you achieve all this? Life is hard for us too — we have dreams, but we can’t find the way.”

He smiled and pointed to a young sapling growing under the willow tree.

— “Do you see this tree? I planted it when I was a child. Every spring, I watered it, protected it from the wind, and covered it during the cold. Years passed, and now it stands strong and bears fruit. Dreams are the same — if you don’t nurture them with patience, they’ll wither.”

The young people listened and felt inspired.

Years later, Qudrat’s tree of patience became a symbol of the whole village. People rested beneath its shade, young folks gathered to talk, and in every fruit the tree seemed to whisper:

> “Hardship is not meant to stop you, but to strengthen you.

Patience turns struggle into happiness.”

“THE SWALLOW THAT NEVER RETURNED”

The spring breeze blew softly, moving the white clouds across the village sky. The branches of trees were again covered with green leaves, and the pleasant earthy scent rising from the fields filled the air. In that same village, near the river, there lived an old man named Hamro.

Hamro had traveled to many places in his youth — he had seen both cities and the countryside. Yet, he chose to spend the last season of his life in his native village, where his childhood memories were preserved. Every day, he sat under the big willow tree in front of his house, gazing into the distance — as if waiting for someone.

One early morning, swallows rose into the sky. They chirped, circled over the yard, and then flew away toward the mountains. Watching them, Hamro smiled gently, as if talking to them:

— “Oh swallows, you come every spring and leave every autumn. But I still remain here. Perhaps one day, I will fly away with you,” he whispered softly.

That morning, his granddaughter Asal came out into the yard and approached him.

— “Grandpa, you’re watching the swallows again?” she said, smiling.

— “Yes, my dear. Seeing them leave is wisdom, but waiting for their return is hope,” replied Hamro.

Asal didn’t fully understand her grandfather’s words but nodded affectionately.

 The Mysterious Encounter

One day, as Hamro dozed off under the willow tree, he had a dream. In the dream, he was a young boy again, watching a swallow’s nest by the river. Suddenly, a woman dressed in white appeared before him. Her face was bright, and her voice was gentle.

— “Hamro,” she said, “your life is drawing to an end. But don’t be afraid. A swallow will come to accompany you — it will guide you to the other world.”

Hamro woke up in a sweat, his heart pounding. “Could this dream be a sign?” he wondered.

A week later, a single swallow flew into his yard and began to build a nest on the roof. Strangely, all the other swallows had already migrated to the mountains — this one had stayed behind.

Hamro looked at it with wonder.

— “So, you’re the swallow that never returned,” he said with a soft smile.

 Departure and Return

Days passed, and Hamro grew weaker. Yet every day, he sat under the willow, watching the swallow. It seemed as if there was now a silent bond between them.

One night, under the moonlight shining into the yard, the swallow flew into his room. Hamro was awake, lying quietly on his bed. The bird perched gently on his shoulder. In that moment, Hamro closed his eyes, and a peaceful smile appeared on his face.

When Asal entered the room in the morning, her grandfather looked as if he were sleeping peacefully — but he never woke again. Outside, a lone swallow circled above the yard and then soared into the sky until it vanished.

From that day on, the villagers remembered Hamro as “the man who left with the swallow.” Every spring, when they saw a swallow flying over the village, they would say:

— “Look, Hamro has come back.”

Dreams

He still has dreams

About London

His furry daughter

His soulmate

His everything.

Taylor Dibbert is a poet in Washington, DC. He’s author of, most recently, “On the Rocks.”

The Mountain’s Cry

The mountain was robbed of its companionship,

the trees were razed, the grass withered.

The barren earth, without leaves, flowers, or insects,

cries out to the heavens in its sorrow, but no one hears it.

On the summit remains a living being,

a bird has walked.

has traveled in search of someone

to hear its song,

only the echo answers it in a distant sound.

The grass, in its fervor, grows again,

it has not lost hope,

 it dresses in green, shows off its attire

and longs to bloom.

The motionless snow watches

a flower and a bird

that walks without rest,

while the white flower

grows in its silence.

Aura Echeverri Uribe, Colombian. Writer of novels, short stories, and poems. I have published fourteen books: Six novels and eight books of short stories. My first book of poems is with the publisher and will be published soon, and I am currently writing a novel.