Is this yours
this memory
a shard of remorse
a paper moon forgotten of course
lessons learned
Wound beneath the skin
pain requires a destination
spirit within
without a body outside of time
common sense disabled
wisdom left behind
What else do you need?
© 2020 j.g. lewis
What do we overlook?
What instances or occasions
do we choose to not observe, acknowledge, or
try to comprehend?
How can we ignore the shifting beauty
of the leaves, the final days of colour before
wicked winds, a nightly chill, turn our landscape
to a humble grey.
We will feel the deficit, unnoticed in the entirety.
What happens when we do not stop
to pay attention to the slight motion of a raindrop
in a puddle on a drizzly day, or look past
the kaleidoscope haze as errant drops diffuse
light on the lenses of your eyeglasses.
Our vision is not clear to the reality of
people passing by on the sidewalk, on the way
to work or school, perhaps paying as little attention
to the surroundings as we do.
© 2022 j.g. lewis
It takes but a night of rain
to wash away weeks and months.
The remainder of the season,
days of thought and reason.
Please wait, she said.
Her colour had changed, more
than the blush on her cheeks.
I’m not ready.
It’s time, autumn replied, as much
warmth in his voice
as intention.
Will you be gentle?
Summer shone, still possessing
the familiar beauty that was her gift.
I will try, he said.
I have been waiting so long
for this moment.
© 2015 j.g. lewis
Come under my blanket, literally or metaphorically.
Share my words, and time, beneath this moonless sky. Breathe
deeply. There is warmth here; we have a place to discover,
to dream, and to make this world a little smaller.
You are not like me. Obviously. The voice is foreign. Your skin
is different; or maybe it is mine. But let’s put those differences
on the table and sit, as equals, as strangers, as humans, under
the canopy of night, united by what makes us the same.
How different can we be? You are here. So am I. Should we all
not be allowed a place for art, for dancing, and dialogue, and
just allowing things to happen. Shouldn’t this city, this place
of all places, allow for a naturally-occurring random acts of belonging.
We belong here; we are all here, more likely than not strangers.
Regardless of where we come from, or where we have been,
there are more commonalities than differences. There has to be,
we are the same. We are all right here. Right now.
Can you let go of what you are used to? Can you imagine
becoming comfortable with the uncomfortable? Can we
as a species, as a people, as a force, take back the negativity
that exists outside this blanket? Can we try?
Communication, unhindered by race, or faith, or morals and
mindset, should be the easiest way to absolve the madness
that occurs daily on this planet. If poetry is the language,
it matters less about the accent and more about the intent.
You have a voice, and it is lovely, and unique, and has
a purpose. Speak up. Share, let others know how you feel, and
what you deal with daily, weekly, and now. You belong.
Come under the cover, and make room for others.
© 2016 j.g. lewis
You can’t fully prepare yourself for what is to come.
It is unknown and uncertain and not knowing is often
where we dwell.
Uncertainty gets us thinking, keeps us curious about
who we are and what will become of the days, weeks,
and years we leave behind.
We do indeed live in the moment(s), yet those that
preceded this time will continue to influence our current
state of mind.
Past tense.
Present tense.
What was is not what is now.
The sooner you are able to grasp all that, the better able you
are to understand how you can you be ready for the future?
It need not be such a definite moment, but it will define you,
whether you will admit it or not.
What you say, what you write, what you experience or what
you remember does have a lasting impression.
© 2022 j.g. lewis