Margins Magazine - Volume 3 Issue 1
2020 has been a year of immense change and upheaval thus far, with our idea around what is normal challenged in the midst of a pandemic. In this midst of these volatile times, our team at Margins Magazine has come together to create Volume 3 Issue 1 of our publication, revolving around the theme of CHANGE. In this issue, our writers have worked hard to bring you pieces that critically discuss the realities of the current moment from advocacy effort across different fields to issues such as domestic violence and colourist. At #UTSC, we connect with Radio FWD and UTERN at UTSC to learn how campus groups are affected during the pandemic and how they are evolving their programming while staying connected with students. We’ve received amazing creative submissions from members of our local community and around the world that have allowed us to curate this issue with stories that truly represent the heart, soul, and pulse of the current times. Bringing together all these voices in Margins has been a true labour of love. We truly hope that the stories, words, and art within Margins resonate with you. Follow us on Instagram @wtcmargins & LinkedIn https://www.linkedin.com/company/margins-magazine!
2020 has been a year of immense change and upheaval thus far, with our idea around what is normal challenged in the midst of a pandemic. In this midst of these volatile times, our team at Margins Magazine has come together to create Volume 3 Issue 1 of our publication, revolving around the theme of CHANGE.
In this issue, our writers have worked hard to bring you pieces that critically discuss the realities of the current moment from advocacy effort across different fields to issues such as domestic violence and colourist. At #UTSC, we connect with Radio FWD and UTERN at UTSC to learn how campus groups are affected during the pandemic and how they are evolving their programming while staying connected with students.
We’ve received amazing creative submissions from members of our local community and around the world that have allowed us to curate this issue with stories that truly represent the heart, soul, and pulse of the current times.
Bringing together all these voices in Margins has been a true labour of love. We truly hope that the stories, words, and art within Margins resonate with you.
Follow us on Instagram @wtcmargins & LinkedIn https://www.linkedin.com/company/margins-magazine!
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MARGINS<br />
MARGINS<br />
Identity.<br />
By Raisa Masud<br />
I was uprooted from the land<br />
And soon this will too<br />
Missing the scents<br />
in her glance the mountains collapse<br />
Where my ancestors lay<br />
But they locked up the doors<br />
Of her childhood tiles<br />
with eyes dark like cocoa<br />
And thrown into a box<br />
As I screamed from behind<br />
in her ambiance you find maps<br />
On one bitter day<br />
Please let me in<br />
With two different oceans<br />
that lead you to the memories<br />
I scratched out the edges<br />
I promise I will try<br />
that swallowed her whole<br />
of those red Persian rugs<br />
To escape those walls<br />
To become who you wish<br />
yet she returned<br />
where you spent all evening<br />
Yet I was reminded again<br />
And as you wish I will do<br />
with a shield for a soul<br />
playing with toy trucks<br />
That I was not tall<br />
I will bleach my skin white<br />
she bloomed into the guardian<br />
a diluted version<br />
Enough to clench<br />
And stain my jeans blue<br />
of her own forest<br />
of when two worlds collide<br />
To the thoughts that remained<br />
she slayed the tides of the oceans<br />
she is soft like the clouds yet<br />
Of my sweet little home<br />
When I returned that night<br />
and planted a nest<br />
as strong as the tides<br />
Where we used to play<br />
I saw the anger rise<br />
from where she grew roses<br />
that pull you in closer<br />
The sight of estrangement<br />
mountains and towers<br />
on a full moon night<br />
Now I was to make a house<br />
In my mother’s eyes<br />
caressing the memories<br />
Out of this wooden box<br />
She could not reckon<br />
of her childhood showers<br />
go on my love,<br />
Where my tongue got twisted<br />
Who her daughter had become<br />
when Nani would wrap her<br />
the world is yours to claim<br />
So, I used calcite chalks<br />
So, I wept to the lyrics<br />
in her arms oh so tight<br />
two broken traces<br />
A last desperate attempt<br />
Of the songs she once hummed<br />
kiss her head and brush her hair<br />
can come whole once again<br />
To keep holding on<br />
When she would lay me on her chest and<br />
then they flew afternoon kites<br />
To those voices I once knew<br />
I’d fall deep asleep<br />
- r.m.<br />
before long they were gone<br />
Until dawn did us apart<br />
memories get lost<br />
May 18, 2020<br />
And I climbed up again<br />
My hands she would keep<br />
but are never forgotten<br />
To sever my being<br />
As I turned out the lights<br />
the scents of childhood home and<br />
I will revive and<br />
I knew I was alone<br />
all the fights we got in<br />
Gather new meaning<br />
With no one that knew me<br />
she embodies her ma, her Nani, her all<br />
To this thing we call life<br />
Or to call their own<br />
is defined by the boxes<br />
Though all that I knew<br />
Just another tragic<br />
that got far too small<br />
Had vanished before me<br />
Immigrant child<br />
for she is a force of nature<br />
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