Foreword
Simultaneously publishing two substantial issues spanning more than 200 pages, although painstaking, resonates with the human experience and relationship with the infinite imagination of possibilities. Lunaris Review‘s Issue 18 is a treasury of enchanting narratives that traverse the depth and dimensions of human experiences, one of self-discovery offering a complex symphony of emotions and echoes of history.
In โBeing a Shrink,โ Pam Munter unveils her soul-stirring journey as a psychotherapist, narrating how her vocation enables others to embrace a better life. Within these poignant recollections, we glimpse the weight of knowing that saving a life is not always within our grasp, and the profound responsibility that comes with the role. Like Yorick said โItโs when you know that you canโt save a life that things get serious. Iโve never enjoyed being the harbinger of death.โ
But in Ian Douglas Robertson’s โMurder,โ therapy transcends the conventional confines of an office, revealing that healing conversations can transpire in the most unexpected places like a local pub, over pints of beer. Through the lives of Don and Yorick, we grapple with absolution, pain, and the tethered nature of our humanity. Yorick’s reminder to keep our wings clipped echoes the age-old wisdom of humility. Reminding us of Icarus, he says: โIt stops us from flying too high.โ
Olusoji Obebe’s โWaterwardโ plunges us into a narrative of loss and survival, tinged with the supernatural but anchored on everyday realities. Through Babajide’s prayers and aspirations, we witness the resilience of the human spirit against life’s trials, one augmented by rituals of work, wishes, and prayer: โAs I go out looking for what we can eat, may I not meet what will eat me. May the sun rise and dry our dreams, so we can wear them like the most fashionable cloth. May today bring laughter, good news and strength. Amen!โ
Yet not all good things come to pass, and Princewill Ibe’s โThe Stars are Crossed at Usโ embodies this truth. It’s the love story of Mmasinachi and Nnamabia that invites us to unravel the complex interplay of love and loss, painting it as vividly as having โthe same impact of taste on your tongueโ. It reminds us of the transitory nature of love and the pain it leaves behind, a lasting companion. โMmasinachi, [meaning] beauty is from Godโ and Nnamabia meaning affection, so what’s in a name?
As William Shakespeare quipped, โThat which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.โ But that’s not the case for Miranda, the protagonist in William Torphy’s โThe Poacherโ whose son ‘re-christened’ at birth, from Kwento to Edosio. The story recounts how the son is entangled in the manifestation of both names. It explores the significance of names and how they shape our destinies. It unwinds the complexities that arise when a name holds the power to influence a life’s path.
Just as rare as they come, John Brantingham, through his ekphrastic poetry inspired by Francisco Goya’s paintings, delves into the essence of art: to seek meaning, to reflect, and to unravel the enigmas of existence. His poetic persona’s contemplation mirrors the profound journey of artistry:
And life asks you to spend your time making sense of whatever this cruelty signifies to you.
And more than we can recount here, from the antithetical aesthetics of John Grey to the resonating prose of MY Lee, this is the soul of art: to seek meaning. Hence, dear readers, we invite you to immerse yourselves in Issue 18, and may the amazing narratives (re)kindle your imagination, stir your soul, and linger in your thoughts long after. Always, thank you for being part of this literary odyssey.
Tolulope Oke & Mariam Banire,
Publisher & Associate Editor, Lunaris Review
