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: January 2022
We wait for the Moon
because we always have
and we want to see it again.
It is worth the wait
We wait without expectation.
We have conditioned ourselves.
It is a cycle that will continue
to guide our lives.
We wait for the Moon
to be whole and beautiful
because, now, we are not.
We need something tangible.
We will always wait knowing
we might not see it, but truly
believing it is right there in
both darkness and light.
01/17/2021 j.g.l.
Posted on January 16, 2022 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
The bone-chilling cold comes and goes. You do your best to stay and survive, each day pushing you to new levels of discomfort. Each winter it seems the cold sinks a little deeper into your bones. You seem to forget that you have felt this way before.
01/16/2022 j.g.l.
Posted on January 15, 2022 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
A proverbial line in the sand, twists and bends
a rubber band, ideals and morals
stretching and straining
until it snaps.
You, there now, wondering
what to accept.
Everything you hope, along with
anything you don’t
blurred.
No tears, not that you will admit, still
the vision is not clear. Where you are,
what can you see?
It can only be
uncertainty.
Within our dead wisdom and cluttered minds
boundaries are defined, so we can know
who to allow
into our lives,
or how far we will let them go
before we say no.
Always within the shadow of the question,
exorbitant explanations
were true before,
but now?
Was it not evermore? What we don’t see
cannot hurt us, still the pain resonates.
It can.
And will.
Have you forsaken those with a powerful presence
for fear you will be crushed? Are you not
strong enough?
You won’t know until you try.
Do you compromise your self
for a quick rush, to see how it feels, Did
did you like where
it touched? A temporary crutch?
Promises may have been illusions,
or may have been true.
Grieving dreams,
you second-guess the honesty,
a reply to which
you won’t believe.
Is darkness looming at the door, or
is it light? It’s been there before,
and the vices chosen
to medicate
and the thoughts once used to meditate
don’t take away what is there.
You look both ways, crossing
a road travelled many times before.
Will you open up the sturdy door?
Or question how you will, or did,
or can
have the courage to ask. With
more trials than tasks,
what will you accept?
© 2016 j.g. lewis
