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.
We want to know what
we don’t know, or hadn’t thought of,
or forgot.
What mattered then,
or what mattered when, shifts over time.
We notice.
Perception is what you don’t see.
Deception is what know.
You see it differently through your aloneness.
The truth behind a lie,
you question how and why.
It made sense.
Anticipation keeps us waiting
for only so long. Will it matter
if you felt it never did?
© 2021 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.
by Kayla Harrison
Google defines the act of “mothering” as, “bringing up with care and affection” or “giving birth to.”
Though I am not a mother to children, I am still a mother.
I am a mother to my ideas, to the words I write down on a page, to my stories. I am a mother to my kindness, making sure it’s birthed in every conversation. I am a mother to my body, giving it all that it needs to survive.
I am a mother to my soul, nurturing it with good music and sunshine.
Like my own mother, I have a heart that beats with passion, a heart that knows it beats not for me, but for others. I give what I have to those that don’t.
I am a mother to those closest to me, making sure they know they are loved.
I am a mother to those I don’t know, those I see on the streets with no home.
I am a mother to those struggling to find hope, those that cry out wondering if anyone hears them. I am a mother to those begging for something to make them feel again.
Like my own mother, I just want everyone to be happy.
I want everyone to know someone cares.
I want everyone to see they’re more than their past and their mistakes.
Being a mother is more than having children.
It’s feeling — maybe a little too much some days.
It’s caring for something or someone with all that you have.
It’s putting time and effort into making a work of art — a masterpiece. It’s loving, with every ounce of being.
I care and I feel and I love. I create and I mold.
I hug and I hold tight.
And though I am not a mother to children, I am still a mother.
2018 Kayla Harrison
Kayla Harrison is a Writing Arts graduate student at Rowan University, editor at The Urban Howl, and freelance writer for Business News Daily. Her goal in life is to find those who’ve lost their sense of wonder and guide them to rediscovering it. To Kayla, reading is a way of discovering the world, and writing a way of making sense of it all. To learn more about her and her writing, check out her blog insearchofthewritedirection.weebly.com
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.