Secrets are rarely as heavy as
the weight we assign to them.
The gravity of circumspect
plays out, time and again. It is
what we carry as we decide
what crosses, or is held within,
our moral divide.
Sit with it for a while, moved
only when memory comes into
play; last night, or the other, or
any other day.
09/05/2024 j.g.l.
When you are not ready to say
all you need to say, you remain
unable to feel all you are
meant to feel.
Joy, relief, compassion,
beliefs, unobtainable all in the
truest sense. Your solitude, like
a sin, stays locked inside.
Unbidden, personal inquisition
only you can reply to, abiding
precious time.
09/03/2024 j.g.l.
Treat others
as you would
treat yourself.
Share when you can.
Kindness has no season,
but is best served
with appreciation.
Gratitude does not
need a reason, but
the taste will last
a very long time.
Be thankful.
09/02/2024 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.
He wants to be forgiven
for memories he may only possess
of moments not shared, not
obviously or intimately.
What never was
just might have been the
principle or pastime
that caused this unorthodox pain.
He finds it easier to write
a common third-person narrative
than to admit my faults, my
needs or my struggle.
His search for wholeness is
an unforgiving quest to find a
semi-natural state in a world of
compromise and deceit.
My self, my view, my impulse
or intention goes long beyond
what I am or have now.
Deeper thought; a deeper longing.
An uncomfortable truth of
which has been comprised of
falsehoods. What is behind his
flawed and fragile shell?
What I don’t often ask is
often what I will not say and if
you do not address this dichotomy
you will end up going silent.
It is not obvious, nor is it
intentional. It is self-preservation
and so much easier than
having to admit this shame.
© 2022 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.