Qualifying questions, remedial response.
Knowledge of situations often haunt.
What we know or have been told.
We tell ourselves we just don’t know.
Answers formed by thoughts untold.
Rumour and misinformation often sold.
Conspiracy theories tend to rule the day.
Bare truth and logic will get in the way.
04/22/2024 j.g.l.
Current Thoughts
Open your mouth, let words
bypass lips. Converse consciously
to brethren or bystanders.
Reach out to
close friends gone amiss.
Be not afraid, not now, of
articulating current thoughts and
accomplishments of which
you are proud, and even your sins
(for we have all owned a few)
might seem far less tragic
from an altered point of view.
Give fresh voice
to insecurities and anxieties hidden
within your self, speak highly of
those dusty dreams
languishing on a shelf.
Past sullen moments cast a
lengthy shadow, short-term
expectations tend to dull down
long-term possibilities.
Talk freely around all you want,
or hope, or desire to be.
Each intention will resonate
with those who wholly believe.
Understanding takes effort.
© 2024 j.g. lewis
April 18th is Poem in Your Pocket Day
a day to celebrate poetry by selecting a poem,
carrying it in your pocket, and sharing with the
friends and strangers who cross your path.
Share a poem wherever the day takes you, as you
would share a smile, a gesture, or your kindness.
Sharing is caring.
April is Poetry Month
take a poem to lunch
Our paths shift, circumstance and
attitude shaping our trajectory.
The company we keep alters both
our outlook and destination.
We are where we are
mainly because of who we are
and whom we are with.
04/16/2024 j.g.l.
I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
I went to a choir concert last Friday night, a rather emotional performance of a 20-voice a capella ensemble at a church across the city. The experience has been with me the entire weekend.
I wanted — no; I felt I deserved — an evening out.
We’ve all been living through several waves of this pandemic for 20 months (it feels longer) and things have loosened up enough that I was craving some sort of return to normality.
But I wasn’t ready to return to a jazz bar I frequented pre-COVID, nor a large concert, but the opportunity to hear a chorus of real live voices within a large church sounded comfortable.
It was.
The performance of That Choir at the St. Anne’s Anglican Church was profound.
The performance met all COVID-19 safety requirements: proof of double vaccination, essential masks, and decreased seating.
Even though both the crowd and the choir were physically distanced, it felt so close.
The sounds of the human voice is remarkable, especially a collective this precise and polished. That Choir filled the large church setting and some of the emptiness that had been building up inside of me.
I believe we all felt it. The choir director was even tearful at the end of the first selection. This was the first time the choir had performed in front of a live audience since this whole pandemic business set in.
We were sharing space.
We have all been cooped up for so long. Through this pandemic we have been living in isolation of sorts. This contact with other people, as things begin to open up, felt natural; and it hasn’t felt like that in a while.
You could sense the choir director’s happiness; you could hear true joy in the voices of singers, and you could hear the delighted response in each round of applause from the appreciative crowd, especially the standing ovation at the completion of the concert.
It felt good, it felt right; it felt humane.
We attend arts events not only for entertainment, but also for community.
We are human. We belong together.
Thank you to each member of That Choir for providing a truly human experience.
Grateful.
11/15/2021 j.g.l.
I’m like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.