Collar upturned, scarf scratching

against the skin, eyes tearing as furious winds

find their way, we protect ourselves

from the intermittently indifferent month

of November. As only we can.

Atmosphere duly moistened

by pent up frustration in joys not found,

unfostered friendships, and decline

in the value of our self-worth,

deceit flows freely in these darker hours.

Our hardened hearts impervious

to even favoured words, we can hardly

hear ourselves speak, and better we not.

Each question delivered during these days

cannot summon an answer; even decisions

arrived at in November will wait.

December, with its warmer spirit and

delicate snow is then a softer month

for broken promises or shattered hearts.

We count not the days, but tolerate

this month of indecision, our time instead

sorting out emotions, impositions,

and lack of interest.

How does it feel from the inside?

The bitter cold slams against our silhouette,

while souls cry out for attention, admonition,

gentle hands or comfortable shoulder.

Even young bones creak loudly against

this change of season.

Even old souls forever remember

the intolerable month of November.

© 2017 j.g. lewis

 

 

I’m tired of the flimsy arguments, disjointed facts, blatant lies and conspiracy theories surrounding the COVID-19 vaccine. I’ve had my fill of the ludicrous claims and insipid internet-inspired insensitivity of the anti-vaxers.

I’m getting my third shot today; another jab; a booster, if you will.

It’s necessary: that’s what the science says. Quite frankly, that’s good enough for me.

Thunk about it.

One year ago we were firmly set in the second wave of this coronavirus in Canada. There was a major lockdown in Ontario with businesses shuttered and movement was restricted. The only hope, then, was a vaccine which was finally administered here late last December.

During this period, and beyond, most of us masked up, diligently remained socially distant, and stayed home. What has happened since then provides overwhelming proof that vaccines work.

In my country — in my province particularly — we have witnessed the COVID-19 case count and the corresponding death rate drop considerably and substantially since the vaccine(s) were introduced and more and more people have been vaccinated.

With Ontario cases now edging upwards (again) with the spread of the Delta variant, the cases are mainly among those who have not yet been vaccinated. . . or those who refuse to be vaccinated.

They have just begun vaccinating the 5 to 11 age category in this country, and all that can do is help us reach the herd immunity that will help counter the herd mentality of the ignorant and unknowing who have decided this whole pandemic thing is a hoax.

I’m not interested in hearing any more of the bullshit. This virus is deadly.

I’m getting my booster shot today and expect I’ll get another one in a year’s time. I’m almost convinced it will be like the flu shot I’ve been getting every year (including this one).

I have been vaccinated, as required, for any disease science deemed worthy of a vaccine since before I could make that decision for myself.

I consider myself fortunate to have access to vaccines throughout my lifetime; especially today.

It’s a moon, only a moon; one of many moons
in this incomprehensibly immeasurable universe, but
it is the Moon we know. It is the one we identify with.
Burning more brightly than it has in decades,
people are talking like they’ve never before noticed.
Light reflecting, radiance filling the space
that is our darkness. It has always been there.
We all stare up. We wonder. You never wonder
like you do under a full moon. In awe of the light,
we seek out contentment
but do we consider what it illuminates?
Not all of it is good.
There is far too much bitterness, and shouting.
All this blame and shame. It is ugly and unnecessary,
fodder for gossip and hatred, and worse.
Nightfall is a blessing, as much as a curse. The issues
that separate us are still there at dawn.
Many times we use the blackness as an excuse to
ignore what is not always visible. We close our eyes,
hoping our problems disappear. They wait for morning,
perhaps magnified. It’s brighter, harder to ignore
what you forget, or neglect, or abhor.
Is there a message in the Moon, all this light, and
what it might be saying? It comes at a time
when we need to listen, and take a closer look
at all that surrounds us. The Moon
casts its gentle wisdom; it does in any phase.
It does not have to be full to have a purpose.
The courage is there. Always. Chose to see what
needs to be done, what has to be said. Shine on.

 

©2016 j.g.lewis

 

 

 

 

 

We want to know what
we don’t know, or hadn’t thought of,
or forgot.

What mattered then,
or what mattered when, shifts over time.
We notice.

Perception is what you don’t see.
Deception is what know.
You see it differently through your aloneness.

The truth behind a lie,
you question how and why.
It made sense.

Anticipation keeps us waiting
for only so long. Will it matter
if you felt it never did?

 

© 2021 j.g. lewis

What happens to the sleep we didn’t get,
words we did not heed, or tears never allowed
to travel down our cheek?
                          Those weeks, or months,
you refuse to speak of; what happened?
Then.
                         What became
of the people we didn’t need, or like,
or replaced? Have you given any thought to
what you meant to them? Once upon a time
fairy tale or delusion.
Shared.
                        Then, remember
the personalities or prospects,
the ones where you didn’t have the self-respect
to introduce yourself to.
                        Where was your confidence,
                        or willingness to bare your soul?
                Easier, is it not, to confide in a stranger?
Those familiar with your ways,
those who have read a few chapters of your story
may not understand
your reservation.
                                                    Someone back when
                       knew you well, wanted to know more,
                       then gave up.
Or was that you?
                       Emotions enrich our lives,
                       as easily as they can destroy
                       all we stay alive for.
           Is that a reason to hold back?
There was once value in vulnerability.
Now; well, you know.
          If you rephrase the question,
          are the answers still the same?
                       Long past a series of coincidences,
                           the obscenity of silence remains.

 

© 2018 j.g. lewis