THE COURAGE TO LOVE

Eva suffered many misfortunes in her childhood. She endured even more discrimination and humiliation. She channeled that hatred into fuel, throwing herself into her studies.

Eva consistently ranked first in her class, earned scholarships through graduate school, and landed a job at a top-tier company. But that’s where she stumbled. She couldn’t keep up with the workplace relationships. After much turmoil, she quit the company.

Eva had become distrustful of people. She enrolled in nursing school and became a nurse. She ended up working on a cancer ward.

But physical labor didn’t suit Eva, and she couldn’t bear the bullying from her colleagues at work. She fought desperately against the urge to cling to someone. She was also exhausted by the constant stream of patients being wheeled in, only to die.

One day, Eva heard the words of a dying patient. Before passing, they invariably confessed their sins and expressed gratitude to many people. There were no exceptions. Knowing this, she found the courage to love.

Eva learned the strength of the power to love and the weakness of the power to hate. Eva realized that most people in the world did not know this. She came to know that humans are born only to die. Eva succeeded in living, loving others without hating them. And Eva is everywhere, living with a smile on her face at all times.

1998 Rekitei Shinei Award winner in Japan. 2021 Arab Golden Planet Award winner in 2022, Awarded the title of Doctor of Letters from the Arabic-speaking world in 2023 My poems are published in Orfew.al magazine in Albania. Also translated into Italian in 2024 My poem is published in the Daily Global Nation in Bangladesh. My poems published in Samantaral Bhabna, India. Interview with an Algerian newspaper is published. My poem is published in Greek Police Magazine. Received a certificate of honor from English poets. Published in a Korean magazine. Published in Koltaka jishu International Poetry Magazine, India. My poem is published in a Greek e-magazine. My poem is published in the Barcelona Literary Magazine. My poem is published in Poetry Planetariat, a Nepalese poetry magazine. My poetry collection is published in Bengali-speaking countries. Three of my poems were published in India’s Half-yearly magazine. Three of my poems were published in the Raft of Dreams Literary Magazine. My poem is published in Hyperpoem Anthology, founded by Alexander Kabishev from Russia.

Tears Behind the Makeup

Do you think clowns also have problems and pain of their own? Do they cry at night like we do? Just like a coin has two sides, I believe people think differently about this. Some say, “Of course, they do — after all, they are human too,” while others might say, “Why would they? They make us smile, so they probably don’t have any pain or problems.”

From my point of view, I believe that clowns may have even more pain than we do, yet they are braver than us. Why, you ask? The reason is simple. We only carry our own pain and problems (sometimes those of our close ones or relatives). But what about them? We all know that psychologists and doctors feel their patients’ pain and live with it as if it were their own.

Clowns also have patients — they are just called differently: “the audience.” Clowns heal even more people than doctors and psychologists; or rather, they prevent people from getting sick. Whether we want it or not, when we see them, a smile appears on our faces. And every smile is a step toward a healthier life.

Let me tell you a story.

One day, a patient came to see a doctor. The doctor asked him,

“Please tell me, what is bothering you? What are your complaints?”

The patient replied,

“Doctor, I feel unwell. I can’t enjoy life anymore. I suffer because I can’t forget my pain. I’ve lost my appetite — I can’t even swallow a piece of bread. Images of hungry, half-naked people don’t leave my mind. I can’t sleep until morning; I shiver with cold as if I’m living through their suffering. When I hear news about crimes, I feel as if I’m guilty too. Laughing? I’ve completely forgotten how to laugh. I don’t smile anymore, doctor. I can’t laugh. If you don’t help me, I’m afraid my condition will get worse.”

The doctor examined the patient carefully, placed a hand on his shoulder, led him to the window, pulled the curtain aside, and pointed toward the street. There was a circus poster with a clown’s picture on it.

“My dear,” the doctor said, “do you see that clown? Every evening he puts on a wonderful performance. I advise you to go and watch it. You’ll forget all your suffering, laugh freely, and leave your pain behind. Your heart will feel light, and there will be nothing left of your illness.”

The patient lowered his head, sighed deeply, and said quietly:

“Doctor… that clown is me.”

Mutaliyeva Umriniso Rahimjon’s daughter was born on 14.01.2011 and currently lives in the Tashkent region of Uzbekistan. Umriniso is a proud model of behavior, intelligence and knowledge at school. She is interested in mathematics, Russian, and English and is studying them. She has also participated in science Olympiads and won honorable places. Umriniso is also engaged in creativity. Her creative works have been published in prestigious American magazines and she has been volunteering for several organizations. In her free time, Umriniso also plays tennis, checkers, reads books, and draws. She has many goals and she is taking steps towards them.

Freedom

A word 

Who has all the meaning of…

This is happiness 

This is harmony 

This is respect 

But what we do

Humans are killing humans 

Humans are manipulating humans

Freedom ,

A game between two birds without wings

Freedom,

A hope inside two hungry stomachs …

Freedom,

Elefteria

A sun waiting to rise…..

In our days 

In our century 

We are in need of a second educational system 

Re write new words 

Or learn the meaning of the old one 

EVA Petropoulou Lianou, International poet, Founder, Poetry Unites People 

THE UNDECIDABILITY IN MIDMOST ME

In my crippledness in your crowd

I split into Solo and Also; in my alone

I bleed between my shadow and my ego.

Our currents are blurred. My substance

is ubiquitous, my components are common.

And still I conceive I’m composed uniquely.

My tide advances ashore withdraws

advances withdraws once more. That which

I have just resolved I then unresolve again.

Can an invisible man still disappear?

Women in how many cities

have unnoticed my presence?

We wish to apportion the What

that’s beyond outside into a space,

a time, enumeration, and causality, but

there are not words enough to measure

the random ungoverned imagination,

the divine hunger for enduring novelty.

Yet some of you quest for a wholeness

in which these me cease to exist. I’d

become less than this manyed nothingness.

GUINEVERE AND THE MINOTAUR

“Love is just

an affair

of the tongue,”

you say.

“a poetry.”

“But you’re wrong,”

I say.

(Nor is it just.

But it’s enough

to satisfy

us cold,

us hungry,

us soul-

impaired.)

In our masks,

the cynic’s,

the romantic’s,

the two of us,

“This, our hour,

our hieroglyph,

is powered

by a myth —

is it a tower

or labyrinth?”

we ask.

SOCIETY’S SCRIPTS

We live inside our systems of symbols.

A creed, a border, a script for courtship,

we need our ordered dogmas to worship.

Our yous and Is dance to their rituals.

The score is settled. It is all arranged.

(An individual may improvise

within choreography and chorus,

but the rote familiar eases the strange.)

Algorithms determine processes.

The fixed prescriptions neutralize the strains

and routined weather charts predict the rain.

Tested certainties discourage guesses.

We live inside our systems of symbols.

Our yous and Is dance to their rituals.

CIRCUMSTANCE AT THE CENTER OF THE CIRCUMFERENCE

My mind wrestled itself, pinned ‘tween Law and Gospel, Vision and Division. And pondered my place within the world — a time to remember? To dismember?

And then I heard, inside, Jehovah: “Wisdom is your recognition that midgets and giants are members of one family. And the pierced are the parents of the whole. This saith Allah the LORD.”

(A disputatious bluejay argues over the head of the wheelchaired woman.)

And then I heard from inside, Allah: “The dark and the light, the female and the male, the hallowed and the damned — and the wide and varied spectra between — all inhabit the same castle hovels, eat identical fruits and breads, fill their mutual lungs with the same necessary air. They live only to die alike. Thus saith Buddha the LORD.” 

(A frolicsome collie is crushed beneath the wheels of the speeding Mercury.)

And the, from inside I heard Buddha: “Siblings are the sinister and the sincere. The thankless are inseparable from the sanctified. The unhurt and the maimed share one body after all, hidden by illusions of skin and gender, atlas and caste. Thus saith Krishna the LORD.”

(A gynandromorphic monarch flutters to the patient finger of the eager child.)

And then from within came Krishna: “The ancient one was an infant once, just as the babe shall one day age. Nights belong to insomniacs and narcolepts alike, and the sun is owned in equal measure by the famous and the nameless. Thus saith Ra the LORD.”

(A jet fighter scratches its vapor fingernails against the cloudless sky.)

And then I announced to myself:

Mankind is a patchwork of the alienated and the integrated.

Of the squandered and the saved.

Of the vicious and pacific.

Of the sane and the imbecile.

Of ensultaned and enslaved….

And Heaven the shared possession of our various souls, demarcated by social lines and by lines within our minds.

Thus saith  I.

(Ants parade across the yard’s Formica table.)

And I stretched and left the porch.

AGENCY

Of what is built the world?

Of timber, steel, and stone,

with bicep and testosterone?

No. Of powder and foundation.

Where lies the garden’s lure,

in garland or in thorn?

The harem whips and spurs the crown

To accommodate their station.

Pinecones’ Scent

moss-soft steps

the cushioned amber 

carpets of forest floor

spiked split shells 

a child’s palms cradle

polished conkers 

a sharp gust 

plucks the last leaf 

the lake’s face ripples 

Mother earth

The earth whispers to the universe ''don't hurt me ''.
With trees, barks, waves and sunshine bearing witness.
It pleaded in soothing, calm voice.
Yet the universe take charge, it was offended by the comment.
It says '' I'm not hurting you I'm saving you''.
Oh that's an irony!

How could you be claiming to save her when you are busy taking what she loves an cherishes the most.
When her first child the soil loses purpose by you burning it, 
' we are looking for treasure' a biased point you always try to make.
When the rock is suffering from your excavations, yes there's a fortune there.
When bloods shatters and run down the water banks, and your waste moves faster than the waves.
When you were busy cutting trees, it tears thicker than the gums you use to hold things together.
When it confident was hitted in the ass
It courage is melting like a magma
It looses it comfort at your mercy—holding your feets begging for survival
Her pride was like that of a dust
Your ego was boosted what a macho man you are.
You didn't just hurt her, you destroy her.
Just like a horny dog wanting to have a taste of the honeypot ey


She cried she pleaded till the tears dried like an abandoned pond.
Like that lake that now resembles valley,  like a godforsaken shrine
And now when she takes charge, punishing you for your crime.
You started playing victim's card—what a manipulator you are.
You worried when rain doesn't drop, blaming it on her
When it was your flames and fire that stopped it.
You cry when the temperature rises to 44 with no trees to seek refuge to.
We chant an anthem of climate action every day but we ignored it
We raise actions on plant trees while the ones in our neighborhood are dying 
When our land have become barren and no drop-not a single drop of water can make it alive nor fertile.
Then we are busy playing hunger games, with zero point or a merit to win.

When you start running after her family asking for forgiveness, they said '' No there's a fortune there, go eat it'' 
Then now you remember that '' you can't eat your cake and have it''.
Crying won't solve any problems you have, you created it so you have to pay for it.

It's high time we start been intentional with what we do and say.
We can't be hiding behind the screen saying we'd change the world when we can't change ourselves and the way we think.
We can't be climate change activist when waste flooded our homes.
Our rooms smells like garbage 
Our drainage have to turned to refuse
Change starts from me, so let it rises from here 
Let's stand up and take action in our hands,
Let's start building a greener environment 
Let's dispose our waste properly 
 then may be may be the earth will heed to our calls
And the climate will be friendly to us all

Khadija Ismail is a student of Medical lab science, a Hausa novelist, writer, poet, essayist and content writer. Her works centres on society and romance, she uses words to address issues like GBV, Mental and public health. She is the writer of Nisfu Deeniy and Wani rabo. Her work will be published in Yanar gizo anthology.

You can connect with her on Facebook as Khadija Bint Ismail and Deejasmah Writer on Instagram and Tiktok.

The hymn of the homeland in the hearts

Soibjonova Mohinsa, a student of the 1st general education school of the Kurgantepa district of Andijan region 

Annotation: This article discusses how love for the homeland awakens high feelings in the human heart, how these feelings are passed on from generation to generation, enriching the spiritual wealth of our people. The beauty of the homeland, its historical heritage and faith in the future become an inexhaustible hymn in every heart. This hymn in the hearts is manifested not only in words, but also in deeds as a bright expression of loyalty to the homeland.

Keywords: Motherland, love, loyalty, hymn, heart, beauty, opportunities, historical places, heritage, future, pride, inspiration, feelings, country, values.

Introduction: Homeland is the birthplace of man, the cradle of his language and the most sacred feeling in the deepest corner of his heart. It is not only a geographical area, but also the center of our history, culture, and aspirations. Great scholars such as Abu Rayhan Beruni and Alisher Navoi emphasized that loving and preserving the homeland is the highest duty of a person.

Main part: Our people always add the word “mother” to the word homeland. Mother is the homeland. Because the homeland is like a mother. Therefore, the mother must be the homeland. The homeland is the greatest blessing, and the more we talk about it, the less we talk about it. Because the homeland is the place where our umbilical cord blood was shed.

It is not only the place where we were born, but also an important support for our entire life. Our great scholars have also expressed deep thoughts about this.

Alisher Navoi, on the other hand, said, “Whoever is separated from his homeland, will not reach the homeland,” and tried to feel the pain of separation from his homeland and the value of the country. After our homeland gained independence, many opportunities were created in our country for future generations, not only for the younger generations, but for all people. First of all, after independence, our Islamic values were restored. People could freely pray, fast, and, if they wanted, go on the Hajj pilgrimage. This is evidence of the restoration of our scientific values. In addition, large investments are being made for the young future generation and extensive conditions for education are being created. Our Uzbekistan is flourishing. Nowadays, tourists from different countries are also visiting our country. They visit historical places and express positive opinions about our country. Because historical structures built by our great thinkers for centuries have been preserved in our homeland. Of course, this is also one of our our values. After independence, our national anthem was adopted on December 10, 1992. After that, “The Anthem of the Motherland in the Hearts” began to sound. The anthem awakens in the human heart a feeling of love and loyalty to one’s Motherland, and most importantly, love for the country.

Conclusion: To summarize this article, they say that love for the motherland is not proven in words, but in deeds.

Therefore, each of us, while loving it, should protect it like the apple of our eye, cherish it, always be vigilant in the face of various harmful ideas and songs, and encourage each other to do the same. Only then will we find satisfaction from the Motherland. There is some wisdom in this satisfaction. I believe in the young future generations. They still achieve high results in science, sports, and all fields. I will also be the young generation of a bright future that will benefit my country! Until now, there have been those who have achieved these achievements with their own labor, and future generations will not stop seeking knowledge. After all, it is not for nothing that they say, “Seek knowledge from the cradle to the grave.” Abu Nasr Al-Farabi also emphasized the need for enlightenment and moral perfection for the prosperity of the country, saying, “A well-educated people sacrifice their lives for the welfare of their country.” We are also our homeland We must be ready to give our lives for it. I would also like to say that we live in a peaceful country where such conditions have been created. For this, first of all, we must be grateful. Let me be grateful that we live in such a peaceful and quiet homeland!

This article is dedicated to the 34th anniversary of our independence

List of used literature:

1. Alisher Navoi. Mahbub ul-qulub. Tashkent: Gafur Ghulom Publishing House, 1983.

2. Forabiy, Abu Nasr. Views of the people of Fozil city. Tashkent: Yangi asr avlod, 2009.

3. Karimov, I.A. The homeland is as sacred as a place of worship. Tashkent: Uzbekistan, 1996.

4 Khayrullayev, M. Spiritual heritage of the Uzbek people. Tashkent: Fan, 1994.