The idea behind this series was to curate stories and pieces that reclaim the love that isn’t always visible. The love that makes us question what defines heartbreak, what defines a connection, how we learn and unlearn, how we teach and feel love. These questions are brought to the surface through this collection of visual works, poetry and text created by women who’ve beautifully visualized all the love you can’t visibilize.
Capes
by Elizabeth Mudenyo
I was 12 and in love with the summer
In the evening
just laying out on the lawn
falling asleep
waking up to a world changed
It felt like five minutes before
the night fell to pitch black
I kept falling in love with everything
that was the problem
The grass sticking onto the back of my thighs
The sun’s red glow on the back of my eyes
Hugging my brother’s back,
falling into the cave of his spine
smothering my face
risking a little discomfort,
I was a constant lover.
Once I asked him if I could borrow his cape
his red plaid shirt
“Its too big”, he said
and I asked again
“its too big for you”, he promised.
And I thought I knew what he meant
about powers being a lot to carry
magic being difficult to have
so when finally
I borrowed his cape
he rolled up the sleeves
and on me it only worked when I ran
when the wind picked it up
and it went flying
I ran fast fast
and felt my heart racing
I knew it was the magic working
I waited for him to wake me up in the morning
to cook us meals
to speak first
to reply to my questions
I waited for him to say yes
to remind me that the fact that I was there was a good thing
a TV screen reflected in his eyes
so he couldn’t see mine
he said he couldn’t describe it
because he couldn’t see it
(it was inside of him)
and that he couldn’t feel it
because it was a lack of feeling
“I think my guts have spoiled
I think at my very core I’m rotting
that the stuff that made me is no good anymore”
he said ‘before,
it was a beast
a monster
grumbling
howling with distress
deep inside his stomach
into a pit of emptiness’
that’s why
it came as no surprise
that with an aurora of magic around him
and empty insides
he disappeared into thin air
Still I recall
the cape in the wind
and how I loved him
Image by Purvis Kwagala
Elizabeth Mudenyo is a Toronto-based poet, screenwriter, and arts manager. Her work centers Blackness at the intersections of mental health, gender, and sexuality. Observing the magic in the every day, she aims to transform spaces and bring together communities through art. She was a fellow of the Poetry Foundation’s 2018 Poetry Incubator and is one of the writer featured in the recent Black Like We (2019) anthology. Elizabeth supports platforms for BIPOC voices through her all work and is always collecting her tools.