Nothing is softer or more flexible than water, yet nothing can resist it.

Lao Tzu

ne of the most compelling aspects of water is its duality. On one hand, it
represents urgency without it, life perishes and so, too, would the imagination.
But it is also serenity, the placating quality of an ocean at night, the steady
stream of a river that grounds.

The writers in this issue picked up on these tensions, with poems ranging from Jake
Stephens’ “Savage Land” where, for a moment, humans disappear behind the blue of nature,
to “River Riding” by Ina Pockrass which reminds us of the non-negotiable nature of water:

“once you’re on this river, you cannot get off” Poems like “Solvents” by Bryan Semeniuk
change the tides by reminding us that water is “what keeps us together/all of us in orbit/
spinning inside a rain drop suspended.” Whitney Rothwell’s essay “Port Dover” embodies
the dichotomy by showing us water’s true fickleness, the joy it seems to take in shape-shifting
before our very eyes.

For the first time, we received (and accepted) a submission of eco-criticism. Claire
Stirling’s “Water as Wilderness” reminds us that humans have rendered water an object for
sale and distribution. “When a natural process or system fails to conform to our notions of
right to ownership,” Stirling argues, “such as when a lack of rainfall leads to a drought, we
say we have a water problem. In reality, we have a human problem. This ultimate lack of
control and the impossibility of true ownership will always, ultimately, render water firmly
in the wilderness.”

Some of the offerings are more voice driven, connecting the human experience to a
backdrop of water. Jordan Grant’s “the Blood you Aren’t Born With” offers beautiful
imagery like the “swollen water ballooned chest of loneliness” experienced in moments of
disappointment. Marte Stuart’s poem “Standing on the Banks of the River After Being
Hauled Out by My Husband Following the Miscarriage of Our First Child” has the driving
force of a monsoon as it travels from line to line, pulsing with the force of raw emotions
and vulnerability. Emma Leslie’s “The Sunrise and The Sea” reminds us again that nature
has lived/will live longer than humans: “Whether we kill ourselves off or abandon earth to
colonize other worlds is not important. The sunrise and the sea will still be here.”

The Black Bear Review, now finishing its second year, is gaining momentum like this
spring's runoff. In the past year, we’ve revamped our website, started a Facebook and
Twitter account, and sponsored the Kootenay Literary Competition. Magazines were sold in
Nelson and Castlegar at the college bookstore, Otter Books, and the Kootenay Gallery. We
are currently in the process of applying for a work-study position so that next year, a second
year student can act as the magazine’s managing editor.

This year’s editorial teams were comprised of second year creative writers who read each
submission as carefully as a hydrologist reads lakes and rivers. The issue found its visual
flow in the hands of a layout and production team composed of Digital Arts and New Media
students, who under the direction and management of instructor and graphic designer,
Marian Lowe, guided this issue to print.

We hope that you, like us, will be carried by the strong currents of these offerings.

Leesa Dean

Cover; Women’s March. ARTIST: LAURIE CARR
This page: Stones. ARTIST: LAURIE CARR
Back Cover: ARTIST: CHARLIE JONES