Cover art by Gaby Lobato.
Dear Readers,
“Time is the wound,” offers Diannely Antigua in the opening poem “Stigmata,” a sentiment that reverberates across the works in this issue. Woundedness takes different forms here, some made by others, some self-directed, but always in conjunction with care. As many of these poets demonstrate, wounds are incisive—they dissect. Wounds allow us to open up conversations about mental health, ecocide, racism, and gun violence. A wound needs to be addressed before it is dressed, and these writers and artists achieve both, savoring moments of beauty with friends, family and lovers, offering a much needed salve.
Each wound offers the possibility of healing, creativity, even change. Such are the collages of Sarah Esmi and Christopher Shreck, and the sutures of Gaby Lobato–disparate parts which make up a whole, ruptures which are made to mend. Time wounds us, but it also allows us to see things for what they were, what they are, and perhaps, even where we go from here.
As these poets have shown, wounds open our capacity for care and compassion, for the self and for others. These writers and artists ask who and how we love, what we stand to lose, and with time, what we could be.
It’s difficult to imagine celebrating Valentine’s Day in the wake of the constant violence and hatred that seems to be the world’s present mode—an open wound endlessly being wounded, and the passage of time offers no respite.
And yet, a wound reminds us that, in spite of or because of the pain, we live. And because we live, we must help. We must do our best. And that is something worth celebrating.
With love,
Natalee & Leon