Mythos & Marginalia

life notes between the lines and along the edges

  • concrete in her ways

    Windswept soil and worry 
    damper weathered wings. Decades of dust weigh heavily 
    upon her shoulders, Angel watching over dandelions and 
    discarded needles on the church lawn. Too early for
    spring cleaning, as if nobody cares to notice.
     
    She has seen better days, 
    long-time caretaker of a street corner where the discarded 
    and deviant line up weekdays for nutrition, attention 
    or companionship; someone who will listen
    when words are hard to come by.
     
    Without a prayer, or hope, 
    faith eludes the less fortunate, even under watchful eyes. 
    It became worse during pandemic days where souls lay about
    our streets like Styrofoam and cardboard containers that
    once contained lunch. Now litter, useless to anyone. 
     
    Heartache by the day, a dose 
    of prevention one trick away. Beggars and choosers, mothers 
    and losers. No one sets the table when there is nothing left to eat.
    Sole angel, concrete in her ways, is always there,
    for those who choose to notice.

     
    © 2024 j.g.lewis

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  • implicitly evident

    Was it a month ago we all seemed to take the time to notice a temporary change in our environment?
       A mystery to many, a greater spectacle to some — depending on where in the world you were situated — most of us went out to watch the total eclipse, as daylight faded to night in the middle of the afternoon.
       It was simply stunning.
       We felt it, almost more than we saw it
       A once-in-a-lifetime experience I have, so far, managed to take in twice; decades apart.
       The wonder of it all still sits with me. Will I feel it again in my tenure on this earth?
       I didn’t bother making the trip to nearby Niagara Falls, considered to be the ultimate spot to spend the much-heralded three minutes or so. Thousands of sky-watchers from all over the globe made the journey to the city on Canada’s border with the United States to take in the magical occurrence, just as they did in 1979 when I had my first total eclipse experience in my hometown of Brandon Manitoba.
       This time I chose to stay near my current home in Toronto. It was close enough for me. While the effect was not full, it was intensely satisfying.
       What became implicitly evident to me in the hours and days afterward is that people noticed, for a short time, the natural wonder occurring right above them. Many of us took out our cameras; even more purchased those special protective eye shields that allowed them to safely see what was going on; it was that important to them.
       I am still wondering why we don’t do it more often.
       Yes, an actual total eclipse is rare and bewildering, but why don’t we look up more often?
       Why does it take a “special event”?
       Why can’t we just be aware more often of what is above us?
       Really. Each night, stars or not, there is something up there to capture the imagination. It might be one of the glimmering constellations you discovered as a child. Sometimes it is a full moon (the next one happens in 15 days) but even in the few nights that follow we are allowed an extravagant glimpse of Luna; a delight in any phase.
       Earlier in the days there are clouds, gentle wisps of inspiration, incandescent at sunrise and sunset, or brooding with turmoil as coming rains manifest right before our eyes.
       I always take time to notice the clouds, always in awe of the songs they sing and the shadows they cast. I have to, they are right above me, day and night.
       Some days are more colourful or spectacular than others, but that’s life. Isn’t it?
       Instead, all too often, we are all caught up in earthly concerns: troubles at the office, the rising costs of gas and grub, the politics of it all and the protests of many.
       Can’t we give our eyes and minds a break from it all and look up in mindful meditation even for a moment or two, relieving our soul of the inconveniences we might be experiencing or drama we are currently ensconced in?
       Look up, look ahead, and look around.
       See what is there and, if you can, feel what it means to you.
       It is usually quite humbling.
       For your own good, take the time to notice.

    © 2024 j.g. lewis

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  • misplaced memories

    What becomes of days past, the ones that remind you of people or places; even those you have long forgotten?
        April now a slight shadow, I can look back and wonder what really happened in the external world as I put aside the time to concentrate solely on my own concerns.       Perhaps it was selfish, or self-absorbed, but there had to be something inside the time within the lines that further defines who, or what, I am.
        It must be more than a guessing game.
        Through the years, it has become far too easy to dwell on reflections of days, weeks or months left behind. Or is it avoidance?
        Internal thought often neglects external stimulation. Often it holds me back.
        May now, June definitely on the horizon, and there will be vistas beyond.
        It is the way it happens and has always been.
        Remember?
        Even those places and people you avoided thinking about, or didn’t admit to considering, remain more than misplaced memories. Everything has an impact.
        I can only step ahead mindful that there was something that influenced my behaviour(s) as I endeavored to move forward. My direction dictates next steps, yet I do so knowing I am stronger because of what was experienced.

    © 2024 j.g. lewis

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  • what once was

    How often can you document the sun as it sets
    repeating, many times over, the glorious feeling
    it evokes. Now or when.
    Are you not observant of the decay and dissolution
    of our world, as it is now, or was then?
    Reminders play tricks when you ignore
    unmistakable sight.

    I have read poets whom write of rust and common
    deterioration, oxidation, degradation,
    felt day by day. Poems of love, what once was,
    left now to suffer the elements.
    Can you not feel what they believe?
    Has the façade been contaminated by life itself,
    or is the sun too bright for you to notice.

    © 2024 j.g. lewis

    April is Poetry Month
    feel what is there

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  • Undeniably Present

    From whence we came and where we go, landscapes
    follow, flashbacks flow from childhood homes so far-away,
    to skeletal evidence of sorrows, secrets, and songs of yesterday.
    Weather-beaten dairies or deeply-faded photographs hrdly hold
    mere traces of what was truly there, our minds rush over details
    and dialogue of kindred spirits found,
    then left along the way.
    Do people come and go, or do we?
    Faulty fragments of what we have collected
    travel with us. Destination to designation; another apartment,
    another home, immemorial addresses on report cards, bank
    statements, divorce certificate, a parent’s obituary.
    Disappointments remain undeniably present and unaccounted for.
    Our recollection of fact and fiction, over time, is rarely as accurate
    as what it once was. We remember our first phone number, but
    must think hard to recall the ones that followed. Even now,
    area codes blur from one city to the next.
    Where am I now?
    Impending move to a familiar place, months away but still
    a trace of anxiety. Or is it apprehension?
    What will be there when I return?

    © 2024 j.g. lewis

     

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