How do we choose to travel?
What is reliable in the rain?
What is our ultimate destination,
for this time, this journey, or
this day?
We move at the speed of life.
Depending on traffic, others
may chose to follow your path,
but not your direction.
© 2021 j.g. lewis
A little cold, little wet,
a little tired and yet
I am here. Still,
full of wonder.
The morning chill leaves
little to the imagination
and much less
to hope for.
Expected, perhaps, as it
always is, this time, this
season is only what
we ask of it.
11/21/2024 j.g.l.
The answers are far less certain
than even last week, to all those
perennial questions or solutions
you might seek.
What do you believe, or
what do you believe in?
Come Monday, you have fewer
questions than you had last week.
For a while there are less doubts
in what you believe.
Whom do you believe in,
and who believes in you?
11/18/2024 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.
We probably don’t need to be reminded,
every day, people in this world, in this life,
are hurting. Even yourself.
You can feel it, some days more than others.
Most times you are able to
get past the doubt and delusion
for a little while. Most times. It comes back.
You know. You don’t need to be reminded,
but you are. Often.
A scrap of paper, a certain date, a song
from a passing car, can easily evoke
feelings of anger, of discontent,
of a pain greater than discomfort. It’s there,
in the pit of your being. Cracks flow
deep beyond the surface. It is ugly,
and unwanted. A true hurt. A scar slices deep
into the marrow of your existence.
Fractures and faults. You know hurting,
or inching your way through the pain,
can make you stronger. You are not sure
how. Or when.
You do not know why. You know it hurts,
and you hate to be reminded.
How strong do you need to be?
How do you find empathy?
How is it you can see
circumstances have changed over the years,
but not the cause of the pain.
All that remains is the hurt.
©2017 j.g. lewis
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.