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: July 2017
Walls surround me; people tell me, even ask me
where I’ve been. I can’t find the answers, or
the reason from within. If home is the place
where you lay your head, I’ve got no room left
for what goes on when the walls are closing in.
No longer seeking safety or salvation, but simply
common ground. There were never second chances the
first time around. It’s been years since I have come home,
though I’m not without my blame, I’m not without
my judgment and not without my shame.
No reminders. No residue.
No solutions, nor the pain.
More a feeling than a destination, home is not
about geography. Even less the physical location.
The whisper of home gets hard to understand,
even mundane decisions become more difficult
when you take life in your own hands.
Driving forward, moving slowly, the place between
here and this. Listen to music you chose, the next
track on the disc. Melancholy melody, even lyrically
it stokes a chord. We all remember taking chances,
but too often forget about the risk.
Nothing there, nothing lost.
Nothing left. Nothing gained
Of course I’m still dreaming of home, it helps me
pass the time. Past mistakes and memories,
I own them; they are all mine. My mind often loaded
with gentle thoughts of you, yet it still provides
no direction of where I’m going to.
©2017 j.g. lewis
Posted on July 18, 2017 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
Always too many things
you just have to do: duties
and obligations, and often
something new.
It needs to be done, or it
will get in the way, taking
up your time and taking
up the space.
Until something else
happens along, always yet
another thing that could
also go wrong.
Too much to do,
and so little time, and not
enough of me, and it
fills up the mind.
Eventually put off, or you
forget about the task yet
one day I
believe I will do that.
07/18/2019 j.g.l.
I keep my skateboard in the trunk of my car. It doesn’t take up much space.
When I moved to Toronto, my car was packed with everything I believed I needed:clothing, cameras, records, a computer, and my art.
Somehow I found room for my skateboard.
I haven’t used it a lot lately. I did take it out one day after work, after the multi-level parkade had been power washed. Something told me it was time to ride.
Before that, the biggest ride was outside of Thunder Bay on my way to Toronto. The road leading up to the Terry Fox memorial statue had just been repaved. I couldn’t help myself, and pulled out the board and cruised down the switchbacks.
It was exhilarating!
There was nobody around, it was early, and so I climbed the steps and did it again, and again, a little more daring each time. It all came back to me.
My skateboard rests in the trunk of the car, it is there to be used, but doesn’t have to be used all the time (but it can be).
The skateboard reminds me of what I can do if I want, when I want.
Just because you don’t do something doesn’t mean you can’t. There are some things you know that just can’t be unknown (I think I have learned that the hard way).
The skateboard reminds me that every once in awhile you should do something to get your blood pumping again. It’s not that I want to relive my youth as much as to be reminded I am still young.
07/17/2017 j.g.l.
