April 2020

Had We Not Dared

If
  we had not smiled,
had we not met,
        if either of us
would not have dared
to take a first step.
If
   circumstances
were different, and time
had simply lapsed, or
  perhaps
        if we didn’t share
tiny bits of our past.
Had we not known,
  or had we nor dared,
if we
wouldn’t have looked,
or hadn’t have stared.
  If we had not
have written, if we
wouldn’t have clicked,
would it
               have become
               just another
          if?
 Yet we did, or we have,
and for that
                   I am blessed.
          Somehow
          what we know
has been put through
the test.            I think
all of those things
could never have been
           if we hadn’t
have shared some time
  in between.

© 2020 j.g. lewis

Today is
Poem in Your Pocket Day
It is a day to celebrate poetry
by selecting a poem, carrying
it with you, and sharing with
family, friends, or strangers.
Even in these times of physical
distance, loss of connection,
and self-isolation, you can still
share poetry and a smile.
Sharing is caring and we could
all use a little more right now.

You can always find poetry at
mythosandmarginalia.com

How long is forever?
How can we trust the
will, or the way, of
those willing to exhibit
a delusional sense of
power at any time, on
any day?
How have we come to
allow ego and this sense
of self-importance to
override common logic
and concern for the
fragility of human life?
How did this happen,
and how much longer
must we fear for our
lives and for those of
our children?
How deep is our faith?
How long is forever?

j.g.l.


08/10/2017  

Poetry is not meant to be anything
other than what you read. Mood
or mantra, independent conscious
behavior, a distraction, unexpected
reality and unknown salvation.
What do you expect in this world
of heartbreak and happenstance?
How will you see beyond current
tragedy or circumstance? Always
there are questions. Inquisitions.
Interrogations. Stale blood on the
sidewalk, fresh tears on the cheek
of a passerby; our response is not
immediate. Our actions muted by
culpable noise and utter silence.
Poetry is as passive as it is reactive.
You may know where you are going,
yet a poem will tell you where you
have been. What do you hear?

j.g.l.
04/29/2018