“This November there seems to be nothing to say,” writes Anne Sexton in A Self-Portrait in Letters. In the face of the violence and turmoil of recent events, I’ve felt the weight of her words. These days, it is often difficult to be fully ourselves, to project our voices into what feels like a relentless abyss. 

 

And yet, in curating this issue, I must disagree with Sexton. The voices that constellate The Dawn Review resist silence. They illuminate horizons of joy and sorrow, carving spaces of discovery and possibility. 

 

In our fifth issue, our contributors probe the space between the self and the external: what we believe ourselves to be and what the world has created of us. “Most of what we think we see / is empty space, dark matter,” Zeke Shomler tells us in “Celestial Bodies.” “All that exists of reality is the slice you perceive,” Francis de Lima proposes in “98 ways to say apocalypse.” 

 

Simultaneously, many of these pieces look outward while reaching for new homes. In Lyn Chamberlin’s “The Player,” the speaker laments, “I was sure that if I loved this house unconditionally, it would love me back.” Meanwhile, the speaker in Jessica Hsu’s “bug days” reminisces, “Every day I sat in the sweltering house / and thought about home, more bugless than the one I was ravaging.” 

 

And, in reaching, one finds others. Joanna Deng’s “YOU ASK ME IF I AM A MUSHROOM” invites the reader to “take my hands and melt me into that tree.” Sara Iacovelli’s “alaskan break up song” recounts how the “last day I held / a hand half the size of mine, / our city was frozen.” These writers remind us that our words do not exist in isolation; there is always a recipient. Today, this is a comfort. 

 

A little over two years have passed since The Dawn Review’s genesis. Starting last spring, I’ve had the honor of taking on a role at the helm of this magazine. This reading period, we received over 2,000 pieces and provided feedback to over 100 writers. To our submitters, for their trust and patience as we sifted through a staggering amount of excellent submissions; our editors, who underpin this entire operation, helping us champion and mentor a diverse array of voices; and everyone who has supported us, at any juncture of our journey—thank you. We’re grateful to do this work.  

 

In “Redless,” Marvellous Igwe writes, “Watch how, after the storm, the world had / gone soft-skinned, / had glowed a soft, ethereal blue. // I can be like the world.” These creatives urge us to orient our gazes forward—to render ourselves whole and capable of transformation. Welcome to The Dawn Review, Issue 5. 

 

In community, 

Grace Marie Liu

Editor in Chief