Shifting silt and rising floods. Fresh becomes salt as man becomes woman, as one life unexpectedly becomes two, as an orphan confronts a past he thought he lost. Firm becomes formless as a traveler embraces infinity for the second time, as three friends contemplate the hidden depths of their shared little life. Wherever you are, you are closer to transformation than you know. Allow these stories to awaken your own inner navigator. —Jonathan Freeman-Coppadge, Fiction Editor

We are all travelers of time, space, memory, and dreams, and in our journeys relationships are discovered, developed, broken, reimagined, and reborn. These stories are unique yet universal to the human experience full of transition, transformation, and revolution within and outside of ourselves. With gratitude to every artist who submitted to our first special-themed issue, I urge all of us to hold on to each moment and to each other in this one precious life. —Eneida P. Alcalde, Associate Fiction Editor

Some of the protagonists of our stories seek out change; others yearn for it, resist it, eventually learn to accept it. For many of them, change becomes the inevitable, the only option left that makes sense. Bringing us to beauty shops and diners, rivers and ocean water and outer space, these stories push their characters past boundaries to locate them in entirely new worlds, asking us to come along with them. —Beatrice Bugané, Fiction Intern

Use the <arrows> below to scroll through the 5 stories

Even though our human selves are fluid, ever-changing, we vainly attempt to fix our selves to notions: of markers of identity, of place, of geography and origin, as if they were immutable. But tides shift and solid ground is cleft; if we are lucky, over the course of time, our terrestrial selves might come to a vital understanding of where we are. It is in these places, where land meets water and water meets ether, that the transcendent self finds itself and realizes that we were always at home and in exile, all at once. We are privileged to include in our debut themed issue this essay which so poignantly captures the movements of landscape, of the self, of the marvel and terror of life. —Ranjana Varghese, Creative Nonfiction Editor

Sometimes the most powerful changes can only be seen by sitting still. By existing in one place. By witnessing your small piece of the world ebb and flow around you. Sometimes it's the tiny details that matter most to your heart. This essay highlights the beauty and the importance of these small ripples in the current, the patterns one can see only by bearing patient and continual witness. It's a story of love and loss, but not in the usual way; a story that reminds us how much knowledge can be held within a single lifetime, even as the land it's been built on is gradually washed away. We're poised at the edge of the delta with someone who knows what it means to belong to the water—to belong to a past that's half-drowned and a future that's already spilling over the banks. And here at the edge, we're asked to consider: what is worth holding on to? —Ari Koontz, Creative Nonfiction Intern

This collection of poems is an intersection of different currents. Their connection is quixotic, yet sensible. They question and surprise each other; they are historic, yet new; they contemplate life and remind one another of death. They explode with humanity. It is an honor to have them arranged as they are here, at ORP. —Abigail Michelini, Poetry Editor

These poems mark the grief and wonder of transition. Rising oceans, natural disasters—exacerbated by our presence—destroy what we’ve built, but too reveal our past, remind us that the earth existed long before we ever did. Though beauty has been lost over the centuries, awe still courses through our lives. Everything exists at once: the ways we’ve failed each other converge with our capacity to forgive; even fleeing through the woods in fear, we marvel at the twilit sky. As river breaks into delta, we mourn by the shore, and soften, too, against the beauty, the life-sustaining planet on which we live—hoping, with tender hearts, that something might endure. —Emily DeMaioNewton, Poetry Intern

Use the <arrows> below to scroll through the 7 poems

I recently opened my high school yearbook which was littered with handwritten notes imploring me not to change. The youthful naïveté is endearing but also heart wrenching. Inevitably we change, and for some of us we make the choice to change every day, knowing that there is more work to be done on ourselves, those around us, and greater humanity. We have had an amazing journey looking at distinguished works through this lens and invite you to this collection of what we believe is a great embodiment of how to forge ahead, find your growing edges, and change your thoughts, beliefs, or perspectives. As the ebb and flow of the tide are constantly shifting the deltas they caress, we ask you to let go of the hard and fast rules in your mind and invite the catalyst of new ideas and perspectives in. Instead of asking others not to change like my high school friends, I challenge you to ask yourself when was the last time your views changed. — Anna B. Jordan, Visual Arts Editor

Change is a process; the difference between final and initial, before and after, now and later. It is difficult to capture a process in a single snapshot, but it's not impossible. I searched for how these pieces perceived our call for this, and when I saw a strong vision of "delta"—-whether that be change, transition, the body of water, the Latin character, a triangular shape—-I knew right away that the piece is that snapshot we were looking for. But, just like the fluidity of a watery surface, the vision of delta in each piece is subjective and many in interpretations. So, come in and see Delta for yourself. —Maivy Bui, Visual Arts Intern

Use the <arrows> below to scroll through the 6 images