Aurora 2021 Mag

A Note From the Editors:

there’s a sense of peace in the thought that the minutes we have colored will keep their place, in the archives of stars. Carmela D’Agostino, “Paintings of Time” The editors at Aurora have been paying attention to the light, to the shadows it casts and how the rotation of this spinning orb we call home brings it all back again and again and again. The warmth fades, then returns. We close our eyes and are renewed. The light will always find a way. Which is why we are so excited to see these themes threading through this issue of our journal, in its stunning art, music, poetry and prose, all of which crackles with the electricity of creativity, born from the same inspired spark. See the light of self-discovery in Briana Cramer’s “Open Letter to Myself Upon Graduation,” or the blinking traffic lights of a fatal accident (green, yellow, red—green, yellow, red) in Catherine Altimari’s haunting “The Night My Mom Swept the Street.” Again, it pours in through a large arched window in Lydia Ingram’s “Claymore.” Hear how the heart is ablaze with hope and love in Ange Birkhead-Flight’s hymn, “Oh Love That Will Not Let Me Go,” and notice how the searing light of the sun both comforts and burns in essays by Ally Groves and Braden Kelsey. On our gorgeous cover art by Patricia Henney, be reminded that every dusk dovetails to a new dawn. We are so grateful to be able to share these pages with our community. We are so grateful—after a century and a half—to still provide a home for your light. Sincerely, The Editors

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