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
Slow down: even with the ideas that come to quicky. Take the time to acknowledge the feelings that arrive, as they arrive.
Write it down. How else will you remember what you were thinking?
Print neatly. You hardly understand the thoughts at the time, why make it more difficult to comprehend weeks or years from now?
Follow your own logic; only you need to truly make sense of what is happening, or all that has happened.
Pay attention to the lessons of the past. Be mindful that not all are worth repeating.
Clarity. Make corrections as you go. Flaws become more difficult to correct the longer you live with them.
11/14/2024 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.
I found a feather on the sidewalk
Delicate. Natural. Out of place
on an urban pathway littered
by disposed-of coffee cups, cigarette butts
scattered carelessly across the landscape, with
pet waste, unabashed ignorance and exhaust fumes;
traces of society’s irresponsibility.
No end in sight. Yet there, without notice,
a treasure waiting to be found,
or witnessed.
All I know is what I see.
I have only heard of Native spirituality and
a belief that when a feather falls to earth
it carries the energy of its owner
to a living being.
A gift from the sky.
I sent the feather to a faraway friend,
one who feels she is lost, at times, even
among friends and the familiarity of home.
Gravity keeps her grounded,
but not comfortable.
By her own account, the world weighs heavily,
as it does with each of us, at times.
We all struggle — the fortunate less frequently —
we are all fragile.
You are not human if you are not.
Pulled in many directions, we cannot step forward
when doubt is a distraction and purpose is given,
not discovered. You are not whole
when the words you think will not find a place.
Debt becomes despair.
Neither here nor there.
I sent a feather to a faraway friend, knowing
one feather alone will not repair the damage
that has been done, yet the gift may serve
as a reminder she can still fly.
© 2018 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.
4 replies on “A Gift From The Sky”
I don’t reply to all of your missives each morning, but know I read them and I love all your thoughts . Thank you.
I am humbled. Thank you for following.
I keep a feather next to a small urn of my husband’s cremains.
a gift, and a reminder. stay blessed.