We’ve been reflecting on this year, this year that hasn’t even closed, and discovered feelings of dread, grief, and fear. But underneath all of that suffering, past and anticipated, we’ve also begun to appreciate the smallest bit of hope.

We’ve lost too many loved ones this year; we know you understand. Whether on the frontlines battling COVID-19 or on the protest line, fighting for equity, equality, and end to systemic violence. We quarantined, protested, checked our temperature and voted. This year is not over, but it’s closing. And we’re grateful for this as well as for all of you who’ve supported, contributed and enjoyed Auxocardia. 

Our November edition examines the duality of loss and rebirth; pain and perseverance. We’re in mourning, but we are hopeful; morning is rising and with it, perhaps, a way forward through all we have lost this past year.

This month, these works of art take two forms. In mourning, we read the works of Ali Herman, Minna Wybrecht, and Kristin Geczi. Herman takes us through personal loss, the burden and weight of grief. Wybrecht, through 3 poems, explores loss, change, and the interactions that hold us together, and tear us apart. In M1, Geczi explores beginnings--with an eye to ends and the difficult journey between them. 

And then we reach morning; these three works by tremendously talented artists, bring us a sense of what is coming, just beyond the horizon. In Devlin’s work, we appreciate warmth. The rich colors and landscape of this scene remind us of something beyond our right now. Similarly, Whitley’s humorous illustration, reminds us of the power of connection and the opportunity of new life, even in the midst of a difficult time. Finally, our featured artist, Al-Saadi, reminds us that we are greater than the sum of our parts. We can heal. 

This installment of Auxocardia can’t make any of us less exhausted. It is not a panacea for those fears we still carry, heavy, across our shoulders or in our hearts. What we do hope is that this November edition of Auxocardia offers you a moment of rest.  A chance to remember that throughout all of this, the mourning and the morning, we’re right here alongside you. 

Take care and be well.
-molly