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.
My Friday morning was spent stocking up on real groceries in the pandemic pandemonium that has taken hold of this planet. I even took a shopping list: ingredients for favourite recipes, and a lot of staples (yes, I even purchased more toilet paper).
Then I waited in a horrendously long line with everybody else.
I decided Friday that I wasn’t going to listen to the radio. I bought a newspaper, but it rest in my packsack the entire day. I caught a bit of the shit on social media, but tried to ignore what I knew was going on everywhere. I certainly knew nothing was getting any better.
Saturday, I continued to tune out.
No radio, no television.
More time. Less worries.
I needed a break from all that has been going around me, from hearing about what everyone else is doing, and being told what I should or shouldn’t do.
I already knew I was concerned, but knowing more about what was happening wasn’t going to make me any more aware, or comfortable, or curb the anxiety I was trying to avoid.
Today I’m not going to listen to the public radio news program I usually enjoy on Sunday mornings. What’s going to be said that I haven’t already thought?
I might glance through Friday’s newspaper, but more than likely I’ll continue reading a book a made a good dent on yesterday. Or I’ll listen to some music. Or nap.
It will be that kind of day on that kind of weekend.
Some might call it self-isolation. I’ll call it self-preservation.
03/15/2020 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.