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: February 2022
March will arrive tomorrow with the uncertainty we have become accustomed to, hiding the promise we hold and leaving room for confusion to fester.
Winter has been too long and we are waiting for the first signs of spring.
March gives us something to look forward to. Until then we are faced with winter.
March gives us snowflakes as tentative as our intentions or snowstorms as bitter as the reality we face week to month. March gives us a complete range of weather to match each emotion we feel.
I wish you fresh air and sunshine in the days ahead.
02/28/2022 j.g.l.
Posted on February 27, 2022 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
For as long as I can remember, there is a song that plays loudly in my head every time the images of any war-torn country flash across the television screen or scream from a newspaper page.
The song poses both a question and the answer in its call and response refrain.
War (What is it Good For?)
Originally released by The Temptations in 1969, it was made famous by Edwin Starr in 1970.
More than a song, this is a statement from the Vietnam era that, sadly, is as relevant today as it was then.
The song plays on.
War rages on.
People die, humanity is lost, and we still wonder what we can do about it.
02/27/2022 j.g.l.
Posted on February 26, 2022 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
“A man without words is a man without thoughts.”
-John Steinbeck
No matter how deep or superficial, words always send a message.
Whether spoken or written, language is used to express a certain emotion, event or situation. Many times they will cause joy, or pain, or spell indifference. We react to words.
Sometimes you have a lot to say, other times there are words you can’t seem to let out; the ones that get stuck in your throat, or are washed away by tears. Where do they go?
Lately I’ve flipped through old notebooks and journals of the past to find scraps of information, half-finished sentences and paragraphs of words intended for someone else. Often they appear as incoherent thought, or accurate accounts of a moment. True, and purposeful, but never released. Now just a remembrance, or a reminder.
The further back I’ve gone, the harder it is to remember who the words were written for, when, or why I bothered scribbling them down.
Words express our worth. Language is used to soothe the soul or sort out details. This is why, mainly, we keep a journal as a map of where we’ve been. These are the skid marks on the road we travel.
Communication the root of all language, but it goes deeper. So much of the time we are trying to keep in touch with our self. There is liberation in letting words out. When you are no longer held hostage by thought, or limited by perspective, you can find calm or comfort.
I am exploring words I have passed over or let sit on the rough pages. There are so many things I’ve got to say, but perhaps these phrases, passages, or poems, have to be said before I can move further.
I have a letter, a couple of essays, and two poems I struggle with off and on. I know what should happen, am often encouraged with the progress, and still I cannot take them where I want to.
Reading over the pieces, I see too many sentences deleted, or altered. I’m not quite sure when the revisions happened, but they are real. Corrections. Still, through the eraser’s smudge, you can still see the meaning, the feelings, and the intention.
Not everything comes out like you want. Not everything will be received as expected. You slowly learn, and maybe that is what holds you back from saying what still needs to be said.
Oftentimes words need to wait for another day.
© 2018 j.g. lewis
