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
If a star should fall tonight
would you even notice?
Beyond the bandwidth of your rationalizations,
a succession of contradictions and explanations,
would you mind or will it matter
if a star fell to the earth? Would
you even hear the shatter?
Millions of people, like constellations,
dealing with insurmountable issues of trust
and faith, and complex relations,
whosoever can take the time, find the conscious mind
to pay attention to an innocuous occasion
like a falling star,
or the possibilities of such.
How can we take seriously
that which happens in the heavens
while this planet demands so much attention
to serious matters. Somewhere, nearby, a neighbor screams,
the night is not quiet as it once seemed.
If you slept through it all
will the stars even fall?
Who would even notice or wake to the sound?
Does it even matter when you are not around?
Always in darkness, we know not how
to embrace it, or to end it.
Should a star fall from the sky
would you know who might have sent it?
Are you willing to guess, are you willing to receive it?
As we stay, as we do, entangled in temporary lives
filled with perpetual motion,
a star falls, and we seldom heed the sight or
take time to amend our emotions.
All of us stuck in the middle of something,
nearer to the end, always in the darkness.
When the star falls, cutting through the clouds,
diamond-sharp edges tearing at the canvas
of your semi-comfortable existence,
releasing the inevitable. Blood drawn,
spilling out, time and again.
Would you recognize what is hidden,
or understand the mind a falling star can damage?
Your soul or conscience telling you
what you don’t want to hear, thoughts teeming
with contempt and abject fear. Wide-eyed awake
still with no sight, making excuses to yourself
for excusing another life.
The galaxies you once noticed
have turned their backs on you.
One star, any star, any star will do.
If a star falls from the sky,
and it will,
will it come close.
Darkness ever strong,
discomfort goes too long, likewise your shame.
You can’t forgive your silence, or forget your
indiscretions, as you shoulder all the blame.
Destined to repeat past mistakes, time
and again,
when the star falls before you,
will you recognize the pain?
Should a star fall from your life, another
luminary gone, and so too the brightness,
will you slip back into the bottle?
It has comforted you before.
Can you close up all the curtains, again, and hide
behind your door
trying to banish all reminders.
Will you try to validate your presence
with another hand, replacing thoughts
of how it happened
with those you cannot understand.
If a star falls in the night
will you be awake enough to feel it?
Let them fall, slipping hastily through the air,
down, down,
crashing down,
let them see you there.
Perhaps they will stick around, for
now is never
what was planned,
and you know it rarely it is.
If a star falls from the night
is it worthwhile trying to find it?
© 2015 j.g. lewis
As the morning calls out, I choose to blink, wipe stiff sleep from mine eyes and soak up the sun, rather than shielding my pupils from the pain of past days.
Meaningful motion begins the day.
There is purposeful thought in understanding that nothing will be cured or conquered by staying still. Each day, in fact each moment of the day, is a tactile, tangible exercise in stepping forward past your faults, flaws, and the forgotten lessons that have guided your way to this point.
Even the sleep you have just survived prepares you for possibilities, if only to give you enough rest. Silence, however long it lasts, is a prayer that says far more than you can comprehend at least, all at once.
It could take all day to figure it out.
Some days it is a struggle, yes, but aren’t most things you deem worthwhile? If it were too easy it would provide no effort, and exertion is required for any form of motion.
Even doing nothing involves some sort of inertia.
It is a responsibility to make use of even the stillness, even in the quietest moments. Morning is only a start. Make it meaningful.
You have hours to complete the day.
©2022 j.g. lewis