Past

One day, a girl noticed an old box covered in dust in the corner of her house. Inside it, she found a yellowed sheet of paper with folded corners. She carefully opened the letter. The ink had faded, but as soon as she read the first lines, her heart began to race:
“Hello… If you’re reading this, it means time has passed…”

The girl was stunned. She couldn’t remember who had written the letter, yet the words felt familiar—almost as if she had written them herself. They reflected the very feelings she carried inside. The letter spoke of small dreams, fears, and plans that never came true.
The last lines tightened her chest:

“How are you living now? Do you remember those dreams?”

The girl fell silent. She once longed for something deeply, but time and noise had pushed those wishes aside. Tears welled up in her eyes. The letter confronted her with her past and present—forgotten and remembered dreams, emotions, and hidden memories.
She inhaled slowly. Her heart felt a little lighter. Because she realized: even if time has passed, feelings don’t disappear. There will always be words that remind you of them. You just need to be ready to listen and to feel. Remembering one’s past helps strengthen the emotions within.

Sarvinoz Bakhtiyorova (born in 2011) is considered one of the talented and creative young students of the Ogahiy Creative School. From an early age, she developed a love for literature and has been actively creating works in both prose and poetry. Her interest in poetry emerged early in her life, and her talent began to show during her school years. In particular, while studying in the 5th grade, her first poem titled “Navruz” was published in a collective anthology called “Yangiariq Gulshani,” marking an important step in her creative journey.

Currently, she is studying at the Ogahiy Creative School, where she continues to work on herself consistently, deeply learning the art and intricacies of literature and creative writing. Through her dedication and creative efforts, she is developing into a promising young talent who is expected to achieve even greater success in the future.

March winds have abated

The power, the delirium

The hastiness all gone

But will it come back 

In childhood fury

To measure time by the

Indefinite hour glass?

Once more I step  on these

Hills, light footed, light winged

To answer the rains which 

Come catapulting into night skies

And walk the ways of a thousand

Roads.

Ananya S Guha

Shillong

INDIA

Ananya S Guha lives in Shillong in North East India. He has been writing and publishing his poetry for the last forty years, and has ten collections of poetry to his credit.

The Tree House

By Jacques Fleury

 [From Fleury’s book: Chain Letter To America: The One Thing You Can Do To End Racism:

A Collection of Essays, Fiction and Poetry Celebrating Multiculturalism]

While the butterfly hovers and the bird sways…

I take tepid steps around the forest

So not to disturb the natural way of things;

Night time in the woods,

I stroll into its evening with a lantern,

So dark a night I can only see what

The light will allow;

I can feel earthly debris crunching

Beneath my feet, the sounds echo in the distance,

I see the dilapidated treehouse that

Father and I built, a once buxom structure

Now barely standing with little nurturing…

Yet still I climb the ladder leading up to it,

The rungs creak beneath  my feet,

I get into the pungent pad on the floor

And lay next to the spot where father

Once leisurely reposed while we talked into the night

Listening to at times tiresome benedictions:

The eternal noise of crickets and other cryptic night noises;

We spoke of traveling and transcending,

Navigating and never minding…

He spoke of his epistolary love with mother

And how they got together,

How glad he was when I saw light for the first time,

And how he would always be by my side,

“Promise?”

“Promise!”

“Cross your heart and hope to die?”

“Promise.”

I can hear the leaves rustling in the wind,

As a gentle swaying of the treehouse that

Father and I built rocks me to sleep…

Jacques Fleury is a Boston Globe featured Haitian American Poet, Educator, Author of four books and literary arts student at Harvard University online. His latest publication “You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self” & other titles are available at all Boston Public Libraries, the University of Massachusetts Healey Library, University of Wyoming, Askews and Holts Library Services in the United Kingdom, The Harvard Book Store, The Grolier Poetry Bookshop, Amazon etc… He has been published in prestigious publications such as Spirit of Change Magazine, Wilderness House Literary Review, Muddy River Poetry Review, Litterateur Redefining World anthologies out of India, Poets Reading the News, the Cornell University Press anthology Class Lives: Stories from Our Economic Divide, Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene among others…Visit him at:  http://www.authorsden.com/jacquesfleury.–

We Are All Children of Mother Earth

Poem by Lan Xin (Lanxin Samei)

Islam teaches

All humanity shares one origin all are brothers under heaven

Equality justice tolerance

Meet one another with peace walk together with goodwill

No trespass no aggression only mutual respect

Christianity teaches

Love your neighbor as yourself love one another

All are children of the Divine

Hold kindness in your heart forgiveness in your soul

Uphold righteousness watch over peace and tranquility

Buddhism teaches

All beings are equal compassion is the way

Interconnected coexisting bound by mutual origin

Turn from evil embrace goodness live in harmony

Revere life bring benefit and joy to all beings

Taoism teaches

The Dao flows through all things uniting all in love

Follow nature’s way let all life flourish as one

Great nations walk in humility harmony is the highest value

Do not wrong the weak nor praise the ways of war

The Dongba Scriptures teach

All nations are born of one Mother

One mother many children

Each child unique yet all share one root one origin

Humanity and nature are brothers of the same father

All things have spirit honor heaven love humanity

All faiths share one source one heart

They converge as one point to one truth

One world one family universal harmony

Cosmic peace tranquility for all

This is the shared original heart and calling

of all sacred beliefs

Earth is a child of the Cosmic Mother

Humanity is a community with a shared future

Born of one root

why turn against one another

Every nation is a child of Mother Earth

Strife between brothers

only breaks Mother’s heart deeply and completely

Every land on this blue planet

is a precious pearl in Mother Earth’s palm

Each carries its own dignity and glory

The agony of a world in ruin

tears at the very body of Mother Earth

Every living being under heaven

is a descendant of Mother Earth

All deserve reverence and love

All deserve a home in this world to live and grow

The harm of raging smoke and war

pierces Mother Earth to her very core

Grasping and plunder

are not true victory

Triumph through bullying and power

is not true victory

What hegemony chases

is only fleeting pleasure

yet it sows sorrow for ages to come

One’s moment of joy

must never be built on another’s endless pain

Coercion and pressure

cannot win the loyalty of hearts

They only bear bitter fruit

The wisest conquest in all the world

is sincere wholehearted submission

He who wins the hearts of the people wins the world

A nation is never a plaything for selfish pride

but a shared home for all humanity

War is never a game

Not the innocent make-believe of children

nor the cold gamble of adults

Mother Earth watches helplessly

as countless precious lives

are trapped in smoke and fear

displaced distressed broken in body and soul

Countless children cry out in despair

countless beings perish in suffering

That pouring rain

is the compassionate tears of Mother Earth

That rolling spring thunder

is the solemn warning of Mother Earth

Mother Earth speaks

——My children

Chasing fleeting pleasure

will bring a heavy price

Do not plant the seeds of hatred

Better to end enmity than to feed it

When will this cycle of vengeance end

Bullying the weak

is not the way of a strong nation

Love and peace

are the spirit of a great nation

To love all the world

is true responsibility

Power is not a weapon to oppress the vulnerable

but the ultimate safeguard of peace and order for all

Be not a sinner condemned by all

but a model admired through all ages

One thought leads to heaven

one thought leads to hell

To be cursed forever

or honored through time

all lies in a single choice

The nobility of life

never comes from power

It comes from the goodness you give to this world

whether you answer the eternal longing

of all humanity for love and peace

No matter your nation

no matter your faith

no matter your skin

you are all

——my beloved children

Blow On The Dandelions

Blow on the dandelions when they come to seed they 

lift me up into the air.

I’m being lifted along .

Blow away your tears 

Your weeping reaches the stars

Tears bring out the sunshine to smile upon me.

Sing out to the stars their songs to the wind 

to blow away the  tears

and bring out the sun. 

Power In My Hand

I hold power in my hand.

You come from earth,sun, and rain 

Seeds

In my hand is a blade of grass .

When I look at you I see a long stem and at the top seeds.

The wind blows your seeds and new grass grows.

You feed the cows,who in return give us milk,meat and hide.

Just these blades of grass bring life to the land and me. 

Mother Earth

Wings flying high 

I see through the eyes of an eagle.

With sharp contrast of brilliant burning.

Piercing through the night .

Orange ambers flowing through  my eyes.

Hot passion burst into flames.

The Goddess of light dances.

Until the earth cries out for rain.

Hot cauldron being stirred up.

The tempest has started .

With one breath from the sky.

Clouds burst into tears with racing winds.

Mother earth now spoken.

Time Of My Life

How time and timeless dance together .

It has a song from long ago.

My Celtic past beckons me to dance for the noble chieftains .

And all the plants dance in harmony .

I’m at the center of the earth.

My life  starts and ends on earth.

My spirits unite with spirits of past and present .

I feel I go around the earth when  I close my eyes and take flight.

The ancient ruins tell us about man’s story.

Of life, beliefs and how they lived.

My poems will live on and on.

And so I follow my bliss.

Myths are public dreams. Dreams are private myths. 

-Joseph Campbell

Watery Winter Field

there was a man on a boat a while back that looked like a person I used to know long before. and, much later, a woman sitting by a window with her husband in an eatery that looked like my kind and departed aunt. there was another man standing that strongly resembled my high school Latin teacher. This person looked like that person. I remembered that I read somewhere Joseph Campbell said or wrote that over thirty, everyone can kind of reminded you of someone else. Campbell was saying it neutrally. I found it sad for some reason. 

The funny thing to me was that though I look as different than Joseph Campbell as much as anything,- I started to notice that he reminded me of someone. I couldn’t place it at first. Then I realized he looked and spoke like my maternal grandfather. If someone said, ‘These two are brothers,’ there is nobody that would question that. 

I was soon in a field and wore the wrong shoes. Though it was saturated with water in most parts,- I somehow managed not to get too wet. But there was no hawk or anything of much interest. Hmm,- I thought, ~There is simply nothing going on.~ I wished that it was an old summer, or a new one, or any summer, if it had flowers and the warm earth, some verdant scenes, and blue skies. I could even be riding a horse somewhere, and at that place there would be tree branches providing moments of shade, a respite from the sun when it became too bright.

And the branches that cast shadows would be so interesting as they looked like the arms of forest creatures benevolent gesturing, so animated as they were having great conversations about the history of the woodlands whimsical and wild but maybe even,- who is to say?- loquacious talk about the history of the whole world? I thought briefly of a soul that reminded me of the beauty of the moon. The moon does not have cheekbones or beautiful dark eyes, clean long hair that shines, so this makes no sense,- but- the soul’s energetic countenance reminded one of the good senses of the moon. and I thought that in the far past, when I stood on a sand shore by the sea and the dusk dimmed the world, that it was interesting to experience that. 

I remembered a dream but didn’t understand the meaning. Inside the dream a person sat to my left. I knew them a very little bit in the dream. I did not recognize them at all from real life. I guessed something about them correctly. 

‘I am making the guess that you are a Libra.’

‘I am.’

‘Wow. I guessed right.’

‘Yes. How did you know?’

‘I don’t know how I knew. But it’s pretty good because if there are ten signs it would be a ten percent chance at guessing correctly. Since there are twelve signs, the chance of guessing is less than ten percent.’ 

I didn’t dislike Libras. or really like them. I wondered why it couldn’t be a Leo or Aries, or even Virgo. something like that. Libra? Libra didn’t mean much to me. I would have to think about the dream. Something about fairness and balance?-or justice?- I didn’t know. I put my right hand in real life,- while pausing in the watery winter field, on the back of my neck. to help prevent a headache. my neck was cold. I was tired. Looking around whilst I did this, I did see a bird atop a tree. I don’t know what kind of bird it was, but it was looking at me. It remained still. I liked this bird. A loner bird. I looked on. It looked on. then I began my way back home at least having seen something. 

Education 

Education means 

Learning about history and geography and culture 

School is a place where you can meet your friends and discover so many things about life 

One day fire fall down 

Crushed to the class

Killing so many children 

Innocence met death

So many souls go to heaven 

We pray everyday 

Children who will never see the colour of the rainbow 

…..

Contact

 I forgot what a kiss is The taste of an afternoon coffee.

So as the waves pulled from the land, I feel like a desert ship.

Contact I forgot what that word means, Shipwreck for months In books I look for a meaning to embrace me, to tell me everything will be fine ..

 To go and leave those roses in my father’s memory, To light a candle to the Virgin Mary.

Contact, To be in your dream hug Let me see your eyes To smell your perfume I’m looking for that word in that old dictionary