Now when the winds begin to roar,
She smiles—she’s stronger than before.
Not made of stone, but fire and skin,
With every scar, she rose again.
Ruxshona Abdurahimova, a 10th grade student at Angren, a city of Tashkent region of Uzbekistan, shares her poetry
Rise Again
They told her she was far too
Beauty is not a mirror, but a window, reflecting not just what we see, but who we are
When we hear the word “beauty,” the mind often races to images shaped by glossy magazines, curated social media feeds, or the sparkling figures of popular culture. We are taught to associate beauty with symmetry, flawlessness, youth, and
We search for life’s hidden meaning,
Unraveling the secrets unseen.
Miss Neeta J. Lalwani, a poetess from Ulhasnagar, India shares her two Sindhi poems with English translation
Neeta J. Lalwani is based in Ulhasnagar, Thane, Maharashtra state of India. By profession, she is teacher. Her poems are published in Hindvasi
Not all promises are fulfilled the way we expect. Sometimes, what we never receive becomes the reason we rise the highest.
In a quiet village nestled beside the winding waters of the Rohri Canal, where the soil smelled of wheat and river silt, lived the Manjhi family. Their life was humble, stitched together by simplicity, love, and
Seventy-seven years have passed since 1948,
The ruthless year of our diaspora,
Which somehow, we’ve come to accept as a destiny
And a tragic and despicable Palestinian fate.
Since then, we’ve continued to breathe,
Love, learn, laugh, and cry…
We’ve travelled to corners never heard of
And
