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.
Month: November 2015
In any language, a scream is a scream,
a cry is a cry, and a tear
a tear.
At a sidewalk café or concert hall,
laughter should be laughter, and music
should be heard. In a civilized nation,
life should be lived without fear,
and with the freedom
to enjoy simple pleasures,
to give, and to love, as we do.
Think not of them, idealistically, but
of you and of me. Life, and our
civil lives,
now compressed to fight or flight.
In any language, on any night,
thoughts remain
bursting with pain, the
shadow of terrorism rising
again. In every country, our hearts
have been crushed.
Restless night, clouded by sorrow and
the news. The images, and views,
the questions,
the why, and why there. Again,
why? Knowing, without question,
it could be anywhere. The streets are
not safe, not tonight, in any country.
Where is here. You cannot see, or
comprehend inhumanity. Not on
that scale, or of that type.
In every language, evil lurks, unexpectedly
displaying its brutal cowardice. We cannot
be shocked,
for it happens, on so many levels,
in so many countries, to many people
on too many streets. Blood is blood.
Knives at home, elsewhere guns
or worse. We see it. We know it.
Yet, on a global scale, our minds
are numb.
Hatred begets violence, justice benign
against those who chose to
use themselves
as weapons of destruction. We
are not safe, not there, not here.
These damaged souls believe
in what they believe; wholly
and without question.
If there is no understanding,
there is only resistance.
Prayers, or a hymn, cannot be offered to
unbelievers, for they will not, or chose not,
to listen.
Guided by spirits, their Gods, and dictators
who know nothing but this atrocious devotion
to another type of mankind. Historically
and now, they cannot know love
or recognize the value of
a human life. For they
cannot be human.
Grieving, raging, and still, beneath our
confusion, above our cries for revenge
or retribution,
lies a love, unpronounced but unfolding.
A heartbeat, sympathies and empathy
to the powerless struggles,
in every language. We, as a civilization,
in any nation, must stand
united in our sense of humanity,
and do so with a fortified will.
We must continue believing in love,
and hope, charity, and trust,
and peace.
Right now, however, there is so little
to those words. We must have faith,
in what we believe, in every heart,
in every body. Difficult to imagine,
but we must. To deny
this resurgence of compassion
is to give in to all this terror stands for.
© 2015 j.g. lewis
Posted on November 18, 2015 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
