With one last thought to carry long:
Let no child be torn from their mother’s light—
O, comfortless life… not tonight.
Rashidova Shakhrizoda Zarshidovna, a teenage poetess from Uzbekistan, shares her poem
Rashidova Shakhrizoda Zarshidovna is a young writer from Qorako‘l district, Bukhara, Uzbekistan. She was born on October 31, 2010, and studies at School. Shaxrizoda is the author of some books, including The Magic of the Pen and Nafas. Her poems and stories have appeared in Ezgulik and Raven Cage magazines. She has won multiple district-level literary contests. Shaxrizoda leads the “Young Writers” Club and coordinates local youth initiatives. She also represents “Wekelet Community” in Uzbekistan. As a mentor, she has helped nearly 100 girls grow creatively. She is a member of the Writers’ Union of Argentina. Her work reflects a strong voice of her generation.
O, Comfortless Life…
O, Comfortless Life…From night till dawn, in silent cries,
I weep alone, then soothe my sighs.
This city feels too vast, too wide—
Mother, I miss you deep inside.
Regret claws softly at my soul,
Old griefs strike hard, they take their toll.
How can I name this empty space?
My hand just shakes, the words erase.
Your eyes still linger in my mind,
Your voice, it echoes deep, confined.
Your child walks on, still safe and sound,
But where are you, not to be found?
The dusty lane of childhood dreams
Fades fast beneath life’s ruthless streams.
Enter my dreams one gentle night—
Mother, I miss you with all my might.
Time wears me down, my days feel cursed,
Too vast, my pain won’t fit this verse.
Yet still I breathe, I say “Alhamdulillah,”
Though strength escapes me, bit by bit, ah…
Joy has no taste, it feels so bare,
I stand alone in your old chair.
These tears I shed, they’re not just pain—
I just wish we could talk again.
The basil bloomed in our old yard,
The beds lie bare, the silence hard.
Each chore I do weighs like a stone—
No peace it brings this heart alone.
My hope in life begins to fade,
Endurance chewed, my soul decayed.
Even in thought, I do not rise—
Tears shimmer now within my eyes.
Come once again into my dream,
Let me ask you things that scream.
What kind of child was I, dear mom?
I need your truth to make me calm.
I know your words—they’d shine, sincere:
“You were my jewel, my child so dear.”
Why is a mother’s heart so grand?
I was unworthy of your hand…
I was a child—wild, lost, unkind.
You’re gone, but food still fills my mind.
Please come and warm my heart again—
I’ll bow my head, let love remain.
My dearest, only one—my mother,
For you I’d trade my life, no other.
For me, your faith and love suffice,
A gift from you—my paradise.
And so I end this humble song
With one last thought to carry long:
Let no child be torn from their mother’s light—
O, comfortless life… not tonight.
_______________
