As we enter and travel through the month of February as a global body, we celebrate love and desire with Valentine's Day, celebrate the minor lunar calendar festivals waking the dragon who brings rain, we attend to and hold ourselves accountable to Black History in the U.S. and to LGBTQ History in the U.K., and we celebrate and prepare with the Shrovetide-related festivals of Dia del Amory y la Amistad (Day of Love and Friendship), Dia del Carino (Day of Affection), and the Carnaval do Brasil (Carnival of Brazil). It is no wonder that one of the legends of the martyr Valentine is that he performed weddings for soldiers forbidden to marry. Our journeys through this month for many of us are knotted with and rooted in our many various distinct and overlapping people's experiences of marginalization, tenacity, and change-making. 

poem:

Journey

BY ALFONSINA STORNI

TRANSLATED BY MALIA MÁRQUEZ

Today I see the moon

white and excessive.

It's the same as yesterday,

same as tomorrow.

But different, never

It was so grand, so pale.

I tremble as light

trembles on water.

I tremble as in eyes

tears tremble.

I tremble as in flesh

the soul knows to tremble.

Oh! The moon has moved

her two silver lips.

Oh! The moon has told me

the three ancient words:

“Death, love, and mystery...”

Oh, my flesh is finished!

From spent body

my soul lifts.

Soul? night cat?

over the moon she jumps.

Travels boundless skies

mournful, nestled close.

Travels boundless skies

on the white moon.

---

Viaje

Hoy me mira la luna

blanca y desmesurada.

Es la misma de anoche,

la misma de mañana.

Pero es otra, que nunca

fue tan grande y tan pálida.

Tiemblo como las luces

tiemblan sobre las aguas.

Tiemblo como en los ojos

suelen temblar las lágrimas.

Tiemblo como en las carnes

sabe temblar el alma.

¡Oh! la luna ha movido

sus dos labios de plata.

¡Oh! la luna me ha dicho

las tres viejas palabras:

«Muerte, amor y misterio...»

¡Oh, mis carnes se acaban!

Sobre las carnes muertas

alma mía se enarca.

Alma ?gato nocturno?

sobre la luna salta.

Va por los cielos largos

triste y acurrucada.

Va por los cielos largos

sobre la luna blanca.

As we journey toward freedom, may we remember with gratitude those who paved the trail before us. The ones who traversed this path with dignity, tenacity, and grace, showing us through their travels, the value and necessity of dichotomy; in is out, endings are beginnings, night is day, depending on where we’re living.

Whether in motion or in stillness, by whatever means we get there, may we be blessed with companions who will accompany us, however stony the road. We do not travel alone. We are not lost.

When we reach middle ground, may we be met with compassion for how we’ve roamed.

May we have new insight into our wholeness, realizing that this journey, full of twists and turns, ultimately brings us to ourselves, which encourages others along the way.