Dear readers,
2018 is here. We welcomed it with gladness, hoping that it would be a better year than 2017. Already at the end of January, we are taking stock of what we have accomplished this month. Women's marches. Volcanic eruptions. Uncertainty. Political crises. Things seem huge and fanged. What happened to hope? What happened to wishes for the new year?
This issue looks at roots or the theme and concept of roots. To plants, roots are hope. They begin life as tiny tendrils of roots and as they grow, they draw sustenance and nutrients through these tendrils. Roots are awesome. Trees draw stability from them. Town councils plant trees in places with unstable soil so that the roots act as a stabilizing agent. Likewise, we also consume roots as food. They sustain us.
We often say "go to our roots!" and there is truth to this. We all search for our roots, where we hail from, who and what we are inside. Many who come from the many diasporas in our world also look for their roots. For many, their ancestors were uprooted from their homelands and migrated to various parts of the world to seek better lives for themselves and their families. In the end, they too sank roots in their new home and began new lives.
Rooting. Uprooting. Growing. Drifting. Hope. Change. Sustenance. These are the themes explored in our deliciously gorgeous poems.
"A Lesson In Uprooting" by Dhiyanah Hassan is poignant and touches the heart of the reader with a sense of longing. Rae White's "If there is nothing out there, why I am searching?" examines at a perennial question: Why are we still searching? What are we looking for? Will we even find the thing(s) we are looking for in the end?
RL Mosswood's "Clearcut" starts with grief but ends with a hint of hope, of regrowth.
Saleem Hue Penny's "Soon Come" is a fitting end to the issue with lush and luxuriant verse: death, sadness, seeds, love and growth. This poem deserves second and third readings, because it is that beautiful.
Lastly, we have gorgeous photography by Che Gilson whose moss-covered roots are breathtaking art.
So, let's sit down, read with a cup of hot tea, and remember the sustenance roots bring us.
Joyce
Editor-in-Chief
2018 is here. We welcomed it with gladness, hoping that it would be a better year than 2017. Already at the end of January, we are taking stock of what we have accomplished this month. Women's marches. Volcanic eruptions. Uncertainty. Political crises. Things seem huge and fanged. What happened to hope? What happened to wishes for the new year?
This issue looks at roots or the theme and concept of roots. To plants, roots are hope. They begin life as tiny tendrils of roots and as they grow, they draw sustenance and nutrients through these tendrils. Roots are awesome. Trees draw stability from them. Town councils plant trees in places with unstable soil so that the roots act as a stabilizing agent. Likewise, we also consume roots as food. They sustain us.
We often say "go to our roots!" and there is truth to this. We all search for our roots, where we hail from, who and what we are inside. Many who come from the many diasporas in our world also look for their roots. For many, their ancestors were uprooted from their homelands and migrated to various parts of the world to seek better lives for themselves and their families. In the end, they too sank roots in their new home and began new lives.
Rooting. Uprooting. Growing. Drifting. Hope. Change. Sustenance. These are the themes explored in our deliciously gorgeous poems.
"A Lesson In Uprooting" by Dhiyanah Hassan is poignant and touches the heart of the reader with a sense of longing. Rae White's "If there is nothing out there, why I am searching?" examines at a perennial question: Why are we still searching? What are we looking for? Will we even find the thing(s) we are looking for in the end?
RL Mosswood's "Clearcut" starts with grief but ends with a hint of hope, of regrowth.
Saleem Hue Penny's "Soon Come" is a fitting end to the issue with lush and luxuriant verse: death, sadness, seeds, love and growth. This poem deserves second and third readings, because it is that beautiful.
Lastly, we have gorgeous photography by Che Gilson whose moss-covered roots are breathtaking art.
So, let's sit down, read with a cup of hot tea, and remember the sustenance roots bring us.
Joyce
Editor-in-Chief