Description of the image of the stepmother in the novel “Stepmother” by Ahmed Lutfiy Kazanchi

Ahmad Lutfi Kazanchi was born in 1936 in Churum district of Turkey. He is a very famous writer. His works include “Stories of the Age of Happiness”, “Abu Bakr Siddiq r.a.”, “Hazrat Umar ibn Hattab r.a”, “Stepmother”, “Mother-in-law”. Writer relies on historical sources while showing the beauty of Islam, how well-mannered and conscientious Muslims. From the artistic point of view. When the writer writes about the bandalas on the right path, he narrates the stories that can be an example for us.

Speaking about the work “Stepmother”, it should be noted that it is not about Fatima. Badia is about what the mothers of the whole community are like. Like many works of Ahmed Lutfiy Kazanchi, the work “Stepmother” made a special impression on the readers, and the exemplary behavior of people whose only religious goal is God’s pleasure is beautifully illuminated. “Stepmother” by Ahmed Lutfiy Kazanchi can melt everyone’s heart, it can be said that it is a piece of his soul.

This work gives readers a lot of knowledge. He calls them to be believers, to do good. This book is scientifically interesting, but also full of virtues. The sequence of events is also very well written. The experiences of the heroes of the work absorb the reader to such an extent that one becomes a partner in their joys, pains, and trials. As soon as we read the title of the work, we imagine a mother who oppresses and humiliates her stepchildren. But Fatima is not one of those mothers. She studied both religion and the world from a young age. She lives only with love for God and his prophet. In his heart was not to win the love of servants, but to fall in the eyes of God.

So, can we call Fatima, who brought up Odilbek’s children more than her own children, who washed and combed her hair white and white, “stepmother”? Mother, who had the intention of becoming a true Muslim in her heart, accepted the hardships and various trials as a blessing. Because,

In verse 127 of Surah An-Nisa, God blesses you with “…treating weak children and orphans fairly. Whatever good you do, God is All-Knowing.”

There are many qualities that we should learn from Fatima. Surrender to God, patience and love… She became the educator not only of his children, but of the entire society. It is said that if you educate a boy, you educate a person, and if you educate a girl, you educate the whole society. Therefore, it is necessary for us girls to learn every second, to be like Fatimas. This work “Stepmother” is a work that can prove that a person can achieve bright and shining days by being patient and doing good deeds. In short, this book is proof that every good deed does not go unrequited. Every work of Ahmad Lutfiy Kazanchi has a place in the hearts of people. Each of his books are wonderful books that call to faith. In the end, we realize that Allah will reward us according to all our deeds and that we can receive two worldly rewards for our good deeds. Can I do the same as you read the feats of Fatima? you ask. We ask Allah to give us all knowledge and courage like Fatima.

PETRICHOR

Jumanazar Yuldash

‘I beg you, please never leave me alone…’

He unintentionally whispered as he held his wife’s hands both firmly and in a kindly way, and he rubbed them on his eyes. Having heard this crying-like exclamation the patient who used to be groaning a minute before regained consciousness. She caressed hair of her husband who was kindly kissing and rubbing her hand on his forehead.

‘Oh how can I quit you, my madman?’

The man who went into ecstasy of seeing his wife’s consciousness automatically kissed her forehead.

‘Just recently doctor was here. He said that you would not wake up in a short time. However, thanks to my God, my prayers seem to be reached to him’.

A weak smile appeared on the pale face of woman. Afterwards for some reason she sighed and army of thoughts conquered her mind.

‘You… never ask for my recovery’ she said utilizing all strength she possessed.

‘Why you are uttering these words?’ the man shocked.

‘Because… I do not know why but for some reason God does not gave us what we asked for but the very opposite one. For instance, now you absolutely want me to live but maybe until tomorrow I will have been perished and fairies will be dancing around my spirit in the heavens’.

‘What should I do then? See, you are in a bad situation and I simply cannot keep calm without paying attention. At least I must pray for your sake’.

‘You would better… ask for my death’.

The situation was really uncomfortable for the husband and even it cannot be described with the help of words unless the reader have been in a such situation. Inclining his head, he was completely dumbfounded by the last utterance. From his condition it was possible to know that he was imagining his life alone. Finally, he managed to say a word:

‘Do not repeat this anymore…’

Apparently, woman suddenly realized that she started talking about unhappiness, therefore she did all her best to explain what was the real meaning of her words.

‘I assume that you misunderstood me. I do not choose passing away, contrarily, I want to live, only to live happily with you, my lover, and I can imagine my future in the dim: you and I shall hand-in-hand go to forest after the rain to collect mushrooms, with a wide smile in our faces. Yes, I can see the very scene! Yes! 

A light, tired but happy smile appeared on her pale white face which had been revived a bit but still showing traces of illness. With the most sudden and hopeful gaze she stared outside the window. Due to the fact that her place was inconvenient to look outside, she intended to see the view standing up on her feet. Unfortunately, hands of her husband did not let her move.

‘Please, look at the window. Haven’t it rained recently?’

‘It haven’t rained since you are in bed. Why are you asking?’

‘Honestly, I wish it was raining right now and we could go to collect mushrooms together. But I don’t know the reason. Give me a word, please, shall we go to the forest when I recover from illness?’

‘I promise you, darling. We will go as soon as you are well, but please, get over your illness as soon as possible. Your contemporary condition is the most unbelievable pain for me, darling’.

‘Why you are always being pessimistic, as I said you, I will never let you stay in this world alone. It is not my fate. Let us change the theme, I don’t know why but I am really eager to converse with you’.

Now for the first time a couple of loving hearts felt the initial sweetness of ecstatic moments after surviving prolonged days of misfortune and these moments seemed not to come to an end forever. While dreaming about endless delight a man always lets his painful breath out unintentionally; the whole world, especially, his lovely friends look very gorgeous to his eyes and at that time he will be ready to do anything for his friends.

Now the husband was staring at his wife with the same happy and positive gaze that he suddenly realized it was impossible to stop himself from expressing his feelings.

‘A conversation?’ he questioned holding her hands firmly. ‘Darling, if only you had known that not only conversing with you, but deserving your attention also is the biggest joy for me. Oh, if only you had known that, dear!’

He put palm of his woman on his chest as if he was intending to let her listen his heart beats. But woman pulled his hand back with a quick act as if she touched the fireplace and stared at him smiling mildly.

Eyes could not help looking at each other’s deepest sides and lovers smiled at the same time.

‘I know, even I know very well and every morning I thank God that I am not a blind one. Do you know why I do so? Because God had not deprived me to see you’.

‘Oh darling… We are extremely happy! Have you ever thought whether there are others who are as much contented as we are? If yes, how many of them exists? Very few or so many in quantity?’

‘To my mind, probably there are not any blissful couple except us’.

They both laughed with joy. Husband stared at somewhere so long. Those who had tasted the real happiness and those who had realized what a magic it is usually dwell in the same way: with a smile in their lips, staring at one particular point as if they are obliged to look at that side forever or like a thinker who aimed to reveal all the secrets hidden in that tiny area of room they gaze. In this period of staring, for sure, others’ opinions on happiness seem very interesting to them.

‘For you what is the happiness itself?’ he asked keeping on staring at the same point.

After a while he accidentally recognized what he had said, so he felt somehow embarrassed from his question.

‘You may consider that question as a ridiculous and childish one. But please, do not be shocked, do not be disappointed from me for giving you this kind of weary question. Simply this question came to my mind and I transformed it to my speech. You do not need to answer it’.

‘No, I answer with all my heart. The only thing surprised me is your embarrassment. Because this question should be asked from everyone. It is the greatest question in this world. I commended it a lot, sorry, now I have to answer to this properly. For me every breathe I take is happiness, my ability to cry, to laugh and to see is the great joy, and in general, my existence is happiness. Everything related to me in this world is delight. Breathing in the fresh air, listening to the song of birds, lying underneath the initial beams of sunlight, watching the flight of beautiful butterflies, smelling lovely perfume of flowers – all things I have mentioned is happiness, I even consider pain and sorrow as a type of joy’. Having finished her speech, woman looked at her partner who was analyzing his thought. At that moment she found herself eligible to repeat this question. ‘So, how would you answer it yourself?’

‘I can only state my answer in short. Your existence and your belonging to me is happiness. Right, I am madly devoted to you, darling. I adore you even though you hate me as you hated the most awful man in the world. Maybe my words seem very simple to you. But I want you to know this: you are second half of me. I cannot be perfect without you’.

Woman broke into laughter unintentionally.

‘You spoke like…’ she said and paused for a while. She understood that continuation of her words would harm her husband’s soul.

‘Like what?’ he asked seriously. His facial expression revealed that he was eager to hear the rest of her speech.

‘You spoke like a fake lover!’

Woman smiled sweetly. Her husband once looked at her and then he aimed his glaze at the window.

‘It is still cloudy…’ he said with a sick voice.

His spouse was still staring at him regretfully. Husband had already realized this, however he went on looking at the window intentionally.

‘Look at me’ said she. And he obeyed. ‘I let you down, I know…’ she held his hands and kissed them. ‘Sorry… Please, forgive me…’

He, as well, replied to his wife by holding her hands.

‘No, I am not upset with you. I never be sad because I am not allowed to be sad’ he smiled to prove his words. ‘Do you know, it was not your words, but my own behavior offended me. My attitude and ridiculous sample-like words seemed to you like an artificial one, so it is my own fault, not yourself. I cannot hide waves of feelings I have. I really want to express all the words I possess in my heart. I want to share all the joy and all the sorrow I have with you. Therefore, I reveal you my secrets’.

‘Forgive me for offending your soul, I am so sorry…’

‘No! Please do not say that feel sorry. I am not allowed to be angry with you. It is sin’. He kept a bit silence. ‘Do you know, God lavished us with a great joy. All we have to do is to deserve this joy and enjoy it. Now imagine, if you carry on quarreling and offending each other without any reason, if we do not stop asking for forgiveness, how God will again bless us?  He would be upset from our ungrateful attitude. I am afraid of this… I am afraid of living these happy days no more. I am worried that God might possibly retake what he gave us. If I tell you, I have read a book yesterday. The author of that book was a person who denied the God. A minute, please…’ he quickly stood up and took a book with red cover from the shelf. ‘It consisted of such frustrating things that I shocked while reading. Surely it is written by a murderer of happiness’ he started reading the lines which he highlighted before:

“I cannot spend all my life fearing of Great Creator who supposed to be able to deprive me from happiness I have. I would rather live unhappily or die. God wants us to live in fear. He is an egoist. The best way is to disobey his rules and to pass away” – ‘I cannot read more. These are words of a wicked person who teaches to quit bright side and leads people to the darkness. Can it be really true that people follow him and accept his thoughts?  Isn’t it a whole of malice, it is? How this person, whose words stink the smell of secularism and materialism, can be able to someone’s attitude towards the life. God will never punish those who are not grateful of their happiness. God is the most generous one. He only wants to give people all the best things because whoever in this world want to harm his or her own children? He will forgive all of our sins if we understand and feel sorry for what we have done. He will even forgive this atheist author, if he feels really sorry. The greatest sin is to criticize openhanded God. But why he does not understand this?!’

‘Can you give me that book, please?’ suddenly she said.

She took the book handed to her and looked for a while. Flipping through the pages she started to read some pieces of it. The more he read, the more sadness and horror appeared on her face… Having read the last page, she closed the book and whispered something. She passed the book to her husband and turning her head back, said: ‘Let it burn…’

Man gazed at her astonishing, but he did what he ordered: he threw the book away to the fire. It started to burn better. Then he looked back at her. The woman accidentally became apathetic to everything, it was difficult to know exactly where she was looking at or what she was thinking about.

‘What you asked for while whispering?’ he asked. ‘I hope you haven’t asked for the death of author’ he laughed.

Now, hearing this sudden question she gained her consciousness and glared at him seriously. Man felt embarrassed at his weird and unlucky joke.

‘How can you assume that? How do I dare to ask for someone’s death?’

‘No, I was only joking, sorry’.

‘You said that you were not allowed to be upset from me. This rule not only works for you, but also for me. Therefore, no need to say sorry. I asked… I asked from God to forgive this sinner. I think, we don’t have to hate these kind of people. Contrarily, we must feel sorry for them. How cannot you feel sorry for those who failed to find the right path? They resemble to the yellow autumn leaves. If an evening breeze blows a bit, they abandon their branches. The reason why they sink in the ocean of sins is that they have lack of patience and ambition’.

Painful silence filled the room. They both were sadly thinking about something. At first husband recognized that there was inconvenience and found it very annoying.

‘Why we are keeping silent. See, we are happy people. Sadness does not fit us. Why not we cheer up or remember something. Because we are not this kind of individuals. What is the difference between us and unhappy people if we carry on keeping silence?’

‘You are right. We got even much sadder. But these kind of people…’

‘Okay, please, let’s stop discussing them. Because they are not related to our life in any way. Why not we look back on any of our more delightful times which are wort to remember. There is no need to think about this kind of issues while we have lots of sweet memories, I think. On the other hand, the world is getting much darker and darker day by day. All we have to do is to burn and tear up this darkness conquering the world.

‘Yes’ she said smiling.

Her husband did all his best to find any worth-to-remember story they had. It did not take a long time. He found what he wanted but it was not a story they both took part in but he was very impatient to tell her something he had had in her mind for long time. Unfortunately, he had no suitable situation to retell it. Now it was the very right time he wanted so he took his wife’s hands in order to let his words out.

‘Actually, I was going to speak about the funniest moments we had. But now I want to tell you something I was dwelling on for a long period. Do you still remember once we made a trip to mountain? At that time something unknown happened and weather turned bad. So as to find a dry shelter we had climbed up to the shanty on the peak of mountain. A wrinkled old man with grey hair had welcomed us. Even though he was not extremely glad to have guests, he did not seem so sad as well from our visit. He invited us to drop in. He even gave us a cup of tea and to towel to dry ourselves and took his sit in front of fireplace and went on reading a book. While we were sipping tea and conversing with each other he had glanced at us so many times both secretly and openly. When we talked about something interesting, he also had smiled and I think, our conversation was more intriguing than book for him. In order to behave as a polite man, he was pretending himself as if he was not listening to our discussion, however my eyes had recognized it already. For some reason the old man sighed while listening to our nostalgic memories. He put the book and gazed at hearth for a long time. He light of the fire revealed that he was hiding his tear drops on his face. He was whimpering with no sound. (You hadn’t recognized it.) At that time, to be honest, I felt very unusually embarrassed. I felt so sorry for an old man that… I contemplated that my future will duplicate this old man’s fate. Do you believe in seeing one’s future or past on another one’s life? I had seen… Then it ceased to rain. We abandoned his old house expressing our gratitude. I overthought about him. But I had not searched for him until I knew that I had to see him again. I had revisited that are to find him and investigated everywhere we stepped on. Unfortunately, I could find neither him nor his shanty. I don’t know why, but I wanted to tell you this…’ – he stared at somewhere for awhile – ‘I… I love you to death!’ As he was going to cry, put his face into the embrace of his wife, – ‘I… I…’ – he could not help himself stop crying, – ‘Why?… Why?’

Early drops of the tear appeared inside the woman’s eyes.   

‘It will never happen… Trust me, dear. Because I have told you…’

Suddenly thunderstorm broke out. Thick black clouds veiled the whole sky.

Woman hopefully looked at the window.

‘Look, my dear, it is raining…’

‘Yeah, it is raining’ he also stared hopefully.

They both glared at window for long, until it stopped raining. Despite they both were in tears they were trying to hide it from each other.

It was raining no more.

‘Can you help me stand up?’ she could not do it by herself so she asked for a help.

She went to the door counting on the shoulders of her helper. While walking she looked at her partner. He was trying to hide his eyes for some reason. His eyes were weeping. She paused for a while, wiped his eyes and smiled with sorrow. Then she took her basket.

‘Shall we go?’ she said happily.

‘Let’s go!’ her husband as well said in the same way, forgetting all the pains and tortures of his soul.

Laughing happily, they stepped into the wood spreading dewy petrichor.

2018

Translated from Uzbek into English by Shokhrukh Usmonov

  About the author

Jumanazar Yuldash was born in 1997 in the Khiva district, Kharezm, Uzbekistan. He is an undergraduate student of Philology and Uzbek Language faculty at Urgench State University. His stories were published on the pages of national press. His works were included in several collection such as “Song of the Rivers” (“Jilgʻalar qoʻshigʻi”), “Common hearts” (“Mushtarak dillar”), “Garden of Creativity” (“Ijod gulshani”). He is a participant of the  Zaamin seminar (2018). Winner of the creative festival “Spring of Uzbekistan II” (“Oʻzbekiston bahori”)  in Khiva in 2019. Author of the collection of short stories named “Petrichor” (“Yomgʻirdan soʻng”).

First, we at Synchronized Chaos lament the loss of life and cultural institutions in Gaza.

Also, here are some non-partisan humanitarian ways in which literary folk can consider bringing our unique skills and interests to assist.

Librarians With Palestine has the Matloub (Wanted) project where people from anywhere in the world can choose books off of a website and donate to have them shipped to libraries in the region.

We Are Not Numbers matches up writing mentors who live outside Gaza with Gazan youth who want to tell their stories. They are also looking for venues to repost and reshare the stories.

The Gaza Book Project is an initiative to replace the books in a bookstore that was recently destroyed in the war. They invite people from around the world to donate used books from their personal collections with a letter included about why the book is meaningful to them, with the goal of sparking international connections over literature.

Freelancers in Gaza, founded by a woman from the region, seeks to provide Gazan youths with career mentorship and connections. They’re looking for more mentors from around the world to virtually mentor Gazans who share their career paths.

Next, an announcement from one of our contributors.

(Image is of a smiling Black woman with big hoop earrings, short hair, a light blue sweater, and her hands folded in front of her).

Coral in the Diaspora by contributor Jerrice J. Baptiste is officially available for pre-order and is the third chapbook in Abode’s 2024-2025 lineup! 

Book Description: Coral in The Diaspora by Jerrice J. Baptiste is a collection that captures the lives of the Haitian people as they embrace the goodness in their community. It celebrates the wisdom of the elders as leaders who are cherished for their commitment to help the island thrive. Each member of the island’s community is welcomed and valued for their special gifts and the joy they each create by being unique souls. Coral in The Diaspora creates a visceral experience for its readers through its colorful imagery and beautiful language by giving voice to the island of Haiti.

About the Author: Jerrice J. Baptiste is a poet born in Haiti. She has educated different ages through her seven multicultural children’s books with the whimsical talented artist April Matula, and also by her full-length poetry book titled Wintry Mix. As an author she has presented her books in hundreds of public & private schools since 2013. She is also the founder of Authentic Poetry workshops in The Hudson Valley, NY for the past 20 years. She has been a recurring teaching artist/poet at The Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, NY. More about her here.

Our first June issue, Remember Who You Are, covers a variety of ways in which people embrace, create, learn about, and discover their self-concepts. From scholars writing about the history and culture of Haiti and Uzbekistan to a tribute to an immigrant grandmother who left to re-create herself, to people rejecting oppression and violence and finding themselves in nature, wilderness, love, family or chosen family, to those reaffirming their values in a confusing world, to those going on adventures, reflecting on the human condition, celebrating their birthdays and their radio careers in Ghana, or simply playing with words, colors, or syntax to create individualized art, this month’s creators are seeking to understand and reclaim themselves.

Jacques Fleury reminds us of the revolutionary history, vibrant spirit and economic diversity of Haiti and how the country is more complex than Western headlines reveal.

Kurbanova Saodat Ismatkulovna speaks to another rich and complex and lesser-known culture, pointing out that Uzbeks rank highly among measures of the world’s happiest people. She suggests that it has to do with the country’s peaceful culture and natural beauty as much as with material prosperity.

Saparbaeva Aziza discusses a book outlining the life of historical sheikh Sulayman Bakirgani and urges Uzbeks to learn their history. Numonova Fariza details the life and death of conquering leader Amir Temur.

Mirsalikhova Robiya calls for a nationwide revival of and appreciation for the arts as an integral part of Uzbek culture.

Mixriniso Jurayeva celebrates the history and the unique poetry embedded within the Uzbek language. Uljaboeva Hilolaposhsho highlights the Uzbek language’s crucial relationship to the Uzbek culture. Jorayeva Marjona Baxtiyor delves into Uzbek sociolinguistics and suggests that how Uzbeks use language reflects the beauty and wisdom of their culture. Norsafarova Nilufar discusses the grammatical structure and syntax of the Uzbek language.

Rosiyeva Gulbahor speaks to the joy of education and reading. Shokhida Jurayeva encourages parents and caregivers to bring children books to read for pleasure.

Atajanova Ogultuvak’s essay outlines the importance of early childhood education and Uzbekistan’s efforts to make that accessible to all young children. Gulsevar Xojamova also highlights the importance of education to Uzbekistan and its government. Abdukhadirova Mahliyo explores the psychology of early childhood education and development.

Malika Oydinova advocates for all students to become proficient in a foreign language, for personal as well as professional development. Shokhzod Dilmurod highlights the role of information technology in physics research.

Azimova Munisa describes her personal and academic life goals with determination to reach them. Pascal Lockwood-Villa asserts how he’ll shape his own self-concept, independent of the pressures of commercialism or troubled romances. Cheryl Snell’s poetry highlights the tension between fear and doubt through its dramatic allegory of the protagonist’s ascending from bed on wings of hope, and also questions our dependence on media.

Andrew MacDonald explores how news and media images seep into our collective and personal subconscious. Patrick Sweeney does something similar, interspersing cinematic and worldly imagery into his one-liners.

Mark Young shares what he thinks about or listens to when he should be writing, which is also a tour de force of cultural imagery that has shaped him as an artist and person. Leslie Lisbona’s short story outlines how a dramatic painting of a woman, which she purchased and felt compelled to stare into during Covid-19 shelter-in-place, moored her and gave her confidence during a time of personal change. Ghanaian DJ Ike Boat pens a poem celebrating his own birthday and his creative career and values.

Grant Guy’s visual imagery pays tribute to the No! movement in art, in which artists rejected the consumerism that they saw was becoming part of the art connoisseur world.

Maurizio Brancaleoni translates works by contemporary Italian poet Marina Pizzi, where she speaks of being intelligent and self-aware in a world of beauty and danger, love and cruelty. Stephen Jarrell Williams continues in this vein with pieces about loving others and working on becoming a better person with full awareness of the world’s violence. In contrast, Rukn Al-Din Younis expresses deep psychological emptiness in a world he feels has been ruined and made no longer his own.

Michael Robinson contributes a gentle and spiritual poem in memory of a kind and very close friend who passed away, while Wazed Abdullah pens a simple and heartfelt tribute to his deceased mother.

Kristy Raines highlights the fragility of true love and the need to hold onto it and nurture it. Prasannakumar Dalai writes of warm spiritual and romantic devotion. Graciela Noemi Villaverde evokes a tender moment of longing for a lover not yet present while Faleeha Hassan poetically begs a long-lost love to toss off the coat of absence and re-emerge. Maja Milojkovic speaks to lovers who are so intimately connected that they see echoes of each other’s spirit within their own reflections.

Sayani Mukherjee describes human and natural life bursting forth in a London spring as Zarnigor Ubaidullayeva extols spring’s beauty and fresh new life energy. Muntasir Mamun Kiron reveres the legacy of deep-rooted trees growing alongside generations of humans. Lola Hotamova compares the journey of life to drifting down a brook while Mashhura Ergasheva finds companionship with the rain and Don Bormon rejoices in the fun, renewing, and cleansing energy of a rainstorm.

Dr. Maheshwar Das also pens verses about seeking out the divine, along with tender care for a lover and the beauty of small moments watching the birds. John Edward Culp draws on a farming metaphor to highlight how love prepares and mends the soil of the heart.

David Sapp’s story relates how kindness and love are not characteristics unique to hippies or those who openly claim those traits. Shahlo Abduhamidova revels in the peace and comfort of a family meal. Christina Chin and Uchechukwu Onyedikam’s poetic collaboration focuses in on small scenes in our families and neighborhoods and on the perennial human life cycle. Bill Tope’s short story describes the experiences of people who fall through the cracks of society and celebrates chosen family among people who care for each other, as Nosirova Gavhar renders up a tale of children’s kindness to a neighbor.

Jesse Emmanuella’s short piece shows that life comes with both the bitter and the sweet. Lidia Popa reflects on the passage of history from a vista point on a peaceful and historic beach as Mahbub Alam draws on nature to consider the complex nature of life: its peace and drama, love and suffering.

J.J. Campbell evokes the broken dreams caused by various relational disappointments as Choriyeva Shaxrinoz portrays the aftermath of a broken relationship. Philip Butera draws on fruit metaphors to illustrate the bitterness of lost love.

Daniel De Culla’s poem laments greed, war, and violence. Muhammad Yusuf Zulfiqorov decries war’s impact on children as Nigar Nurulla Khalilova focuses in on a small child killed by bombs. Christopher Bernard urges Joe Biden to take a stronger stance against Israel’s killing of civilians during its military response to Hamas’ October 7th attacks.

Mykyta Ryzhykh’s poetry focuses in on life growing in the shadows of large societal trauma and oppression. Dr. Jernail S. Anand laments societies’ pursuit of ambition and worldly success at the expense of beauty, compassion, and other humane values. Amir Hamza reflects on our complex relationship with smartphones: wanting them but knowing it isn’t good to become obsessed. Elmaya Jabbarova urges society to bring our compassion up to the same advanced level as our technologies.

Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa reminds us to seek peace and remember the human cost of war, and praises tigers for their shrewdness, not their violence. Taylor Dibbert illustrates how the “ugly American” stereotype of obnoxious travelers is not totally without basis.

Jonathan Butcher crafts vignettes of experiences that should have been beautiful but were less than expected in reality. His poetry touches on environmental pollution and greed. J.K. Durick’s poems deal with the ways we get stuck in life, physically or mentally, which includes watching too much news.

Z.I. Mahmud probes the moral tension within Batman films, the question of whether vigilante action is appropriate to deal with criminal violence, through an exploration of other characters in the films who mirror Batman.

Mesfakus Salahin reminds us that no human being can escape death. Duane Vorhees speaks to the inevitable passage of time, how the present will become the past, and all will become history unearthed and revealed.

Gregg Norman honors his history by paying tribute to his grandmother and to the strength of immigrant women building a new life in a new land.

Brian Barbeito reviews William T. Vollmann’s Riding Towards Everywhere and celebrates train travel and the poetic spirit of adventure. Wahab Al-Sharif recollects how since childhood he has had a mighty appetite for action and risk.

Isabel Gomez de Diego’s photography explores how we relate to the vast expanses of life beyond ourselves: natural landscapes or historical ruins. Federico Wardal outlines and praises the many international figures who came together to support the near-miraculous veterinary effort to save injured horse Al-Khamilah.

Christina Chin and Paul Callus’ collaborative haiku highlights moments of pursuit and action, small and larger dramas. Kylian Cubila Gomez presents photos of scenes that are at once ordinary and unique and fancifully endearing.

Gabriel Flores Bernard turns inward to the human psyche, illustrating how our moods can serve as background colors for the writing or art we create. Joshua Martin explores the impact of commas and words and syntax in a free-ranging set of poems. Noah Berlatsky probes the overlap between art and practicality, questioning whether elegantly presented or passionately shared collaborative knowledge can become poetry. J.D. Nelson’s one-line fragments reflect an experience of the world that doesn’t make linear sense, but somehow feels right.

We expect that this issue will feel somewhat similar to many readers as they navigate the thoughts and ideas of so many different creators from such a variety of backgrounds. We only hope that this monthly mixture will generate a sense of wisdom and completeness on some level for readers.

Don't write my name on my tombstone 
And do not write my father's name 
Nor where I come from 
Nor what tribe am I from 
Don't mention my nationality 
Neither far nor near 
Nor do I belong to any religion or sect 
Because I haven't been through this life 
Except in passing of all that is presented 
So, you can cancel my burial ceremony 
As a tourist in this ruin, you have created 


By: Rukn Al-Din Younis Translated by: Mohammad Juda Al-Ameedi ….. ‏Rukn Al-Din Younis is an Iraqi poet and writer from the 1980s and a member of the Iraqi Writers Union. He has five poetry collections published. 

I am Wahab 

My reading teacher used to call me 
"Little Lamb" My mother called me "Feather" 
She'd confine me to the room during storms 
So, I wouldn't fly like last time 
Upon returning from school 
My friends would call me a "Rocket" 
I'd swallow the streets like an aspirin pill, 
Leaving no one ahead of me 
Now I am still Wahab Rolling 
Like a cylinder on rugged ground 
Next to a wall leaning toward collapse. 

By Wahab Shereef Translated by Faleeha Hassan …….. ‏Wahab Al-Sharif ‏is an Iraqi poet, born in Najaf in 1961. He is a member of the Union of Authors and Writers in Iraq. He holds a bachelor’s degree in journalism and media from the University of Baghdad. ‏He has published 22 poetry collections.
 

Mobile Phone

There is a mobile phone
     It is not my own.
When I touch this phone
     My father tell me gone.

It is my dream to buy a phone 
     So that I can use it all day long.
People use mobile phone must 
     But it is harmful to us. 

Md. Amir Hamza  is a student of grade seven in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.

Sorrows of Losing Mother
 
In quiet dark night, her voice is gone, 
I miss her where she once stood strong. 
Tears fall in the light, 
Sadness feels like the dark night. 
Memories bring a deep pain, 
Love stays though hearts feel the strain. 
In dreams, her smile brings peace again.

Wazed Abdullah is a student of grade nine in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.