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: August 2018
Slight sunrise,
spirit of a new day.
Today.
Take this gentle morning
and tell me
what it means.
Break your fast,
breakaway
from truth or knowledge
holding you hostage.
Few know
your gracious attempts at
righting the wrongs.
Few see beyond
the skin, or the surface.
Show them
How does it feel
from the inside?
08/31/2018 j.g.l.
Posted on August 30, 2018 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
Maybe today
you will find a little less fear in
the truth you’ve been seeking.
Maybe today you will
replace the anxiety
with an emotion that
better serves your soul. Maybe
today you will find what you need,
or a purpose to hold on to.
Maybe today you will discover
nothing is inevitable,
or certain. Or permanent.
Maybe today you can let go
of the past, or challenge
what you have known.
Maybe today you will slip up,
even doubt the real you, but
be reminded of where you are.
Maybe today
you will not make it all the way,
but will place good faith
in tomorrow.
08/30/2018 j.g.l.
Posted on August 29, 2018 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
It stops.
Dreams, planted and paid for, dissipate with the season.
The eighth month,
forever a period of turmoil.
Imbalance.
Injustice.
Always.
The heartbreak of August.
Always endings, always there.
Goodbyes believable, stories told from sixteen onward,
a laundry list of sorrows, added items along the way
from a boy to a man, to whomever I struggle with now
and again.
I don’t know.
I live with it. This eighth month. August. I have naturally learned
to accept. My prescient nature, not always accurate, but available,
should I choose to pay attention to the whispers or my conscience.
Often choices are made for me, although
I continue believing you are where you are
because you ended up here.
Can you know?
This is not the season to hide, this eight month forebodes.
Always.
August.
As quickly as it comes.
As quickly as it goes.
Unhappiness fades away, with flowers, with memories,
with that freedom that comes from shorter midnights.
Soon to change.
September soon.
Calendars need not remind of weeks, or
years gone by. Each month has a purpose.
The sky sits lower.
It waits.
It knows.
@ 2018 j.g. lewis
