Mythos & Marginalia

2015 – 2025: a decade of days


  • Look Away

    Gather, you beggars. Assemble 

    like pigeons, seeking morsels of kindness 

    on these filthy city streets. We notice but do not acknowledge.  

    Or apologize. 

     

    I cannot deal with all I see. 

     

    Any spare change? No answer. No chance.  

    I saunter by in my warm parka, well-rested, belly full 

    of breakfast. I know no hunger, though not immune  

    to the pang. Sunglasses shield my eyes.  

    I have witnessed too much. 

     

    There, but by the grace of God, go I. 

     

    They remain. Unrecognizable 

    even to those who have loved them. A person’s sister, somebody’s  

    brother, somebody’s child. A somebody; 

    another vacant bed or private hell 

    another excuse or story to tell. 

     

    We do not want to hear. 

     

    Nor dare to breathe. Ask no questions. 

    I am only what I ask myself to be. If 

    charity begins at home, what then of the homeless? Nothing. 

    I know where I will sleep tonight. 

     

    Ashamed. I do little but look away. 

     

    Filthy pigeons stare back.  

    Then scatter. 

     

    ©2021 j.g. lewis

     

  • That Which We Have Known

    by Angela Felzmann

    Have you ever left home? How did it make you feel?
    Excited? Scared? Relieved?
    Was it your first steps to independence and becoming an adult?
    Did you escape toxic dynamics, patterns and history to make your own way?
    Did it change things?
    Did it change you?
    Changes create disturbance
    To that which we have known.

    I’ve left “home” twice and come back.
    But it begs the question, once you leave, can you ever really come back?
    Things may seem the same, yet they are not.
    Because you created a change
    And there’s really no coming back from that
    Changes create disturbance
    To that which we have known.

    Home seems to beckon us to a place of comfort, of things
    familiar and common. Solace and security.
    Stability and firmly rooted footing.
    Sometimes it’s warm and welcoming.
    Other times, it’s contradictory.
    Awkward and incongruent. Bittersweet.
    Like taking too many steps backwards towards a direction
    we thought we were finished with.
    Stagnant. Stale. Old. Outworn. Outgrown.
    Sometimes, life demands changes.
    Because you created a change
    And there’s really no coming back from that.

    And what of this last year and a half?
    In this unprecedented, exceptional, uncertain time?
    With changes and restrictions and rules the world had to adjust to?
    That changed our everyday lives?
    A pandemic of endemics that will likely stay,
    How did you mold and morph?
    How did you adapt?
    Things may seem the same, yet they are not.
    Because there was a forced, imposed change
    And there’s really no coming back from that.
    Changes create disturbance
    To that which we have known.

    Did it cause you to pause?

    To re-evaluate yourself? Your life?
    What is important? What matters?
    Did you take stock of your values?
    Did family take on more meaning?
    Become somehow important and invaluable?
    Did you make newfound efforts to stay connected?
    Did others reciprocate the same?
    Who checked in on you?
    And there’s really no coming back from that.
    Changes create disturbance
    To that which we have known.

    It brought the world to a grinding halt.
    It stopped us all in our tracks.
    It brought quiet, silence and retreat.
    Remember the video of stillness around the world?
    I watched it with amazement and disbelief, all one in the same.
    And I felt to my core, there are lessons here for us to take to heart.
    This is the warning call, the universe screaming at us
    to take heed without making a sound.

    Things may seem the same, yet they are not.
    Because there was a forced, imposed change
    And there’s really no coming back from that.
    Changes create disturbance
    To that which we have known.

    There have been unforeseen changes that have been
    so necessary and needed. There are things and ways
    of doing and being that I don’t want to go back to.
    Being that slave to the grind. Running the never-ending rat race.
    The glorification of busy and go, go, go with never a moment to spare.
    Living to exist and being exhausted living every single day like this
    And somehow permitting society to say and dictate that is a life.
    I found relief and breath and decompression.
    I finally was able to actually have a work/life balance
    rather than just listening to empty words about it.
    And I was able to breathe.
    And I breathed.
    The deepest of breaths.

    Things may seem the same, yet they are not.
    Changes create disturbance
    To that which we have known.

    I tended to things that had been long forgotten.
    I completed COVID creations in my home and with myself.

    And I had more time.
    And these 4 walls became my creative space, my safe haven,
    my security, my stability. And I was able to breathe.
    And I breathed.
    And I felt gratitude like I never have before.
    Gratitude.
    And there was calm.
    Life was calm.
    Calm.

    Things may seem the same, yet they are not.
    Because you created a change
    And there’s really no coming back from that.

    And as we wait for life to return, the question becomes, to what?
    And it makes me wonder about my life and what I want in a home.
    Where is my home? Is it somewhere over the rainbow?
    Where the grass is greener?
    Some alternate universe?
    Is it in this city? This province? This country?
    With these people? With these politics?
    Because society is being stretched and challenged and tested
    In every way possible to its utmost limits.
    And it bestows the question of what has become of our humanity?
    I don’t see how we overcome this division and anger and strife.
    And I seek my escape.

    And there’s really no coming back from that.
    Changes create disturbance
    To that which we have known.

    Home begins with all of us.
    Until we accept all that is.
    Successes and failures, rises and falls, rights and wrongs.
    Endeavors for a collective good, not just for benefit of a few
    Until we are comfortable with who we are, how we are
    That we recognize and accept
    Honor and respect
    Humanity as one.
    It’s buried in our marrow, rests on our bones.
    It is that simple. It is that complex.
    Embrace yourself.
    Find your breath.
    Continue on.
    Carve out your space.

    Create your own path.
    And find your way home.

    Things may seem the same, yet they are not.
    Because there was a forced, imposed change
    And there’s really no coming back from that.
    Changes create disturbance
    To that which we have known.

    Forge your own way home.

    Angela Felzmann is an Alberta-based writer.

     

  • A New Place

                                                              Shadows shift softly 
                                                        in the early hours 
                                                                 transposed across the ceiling. 
                                                             Quietly.    Differently. 
                                                    You wake to unfamiliar sounds 
                                                    which, like shadows, will become 
                                                              familiar over time. 
                                              The bed feels as it did before, even 
                                                 as it rests in a new place.     It is there 
                                                          you realize comfort 
                                                                 in your new home. 
                                               Traffic patterns adjust to another route. 
                                                     We all settle into new coordinates. 
                                                    There is always a different way. 
                                                               We experience change 
                                                    throughout our lives; a new address, 
                                                 a fresh set of keys, another neighbourhood, 
                                                        perhaps more stairs, each 
                                                                  taking you closer 
                                                        to a place you belong.       
                                                                We live where we are, 
                                                           the context often new, but 
                                                          you come to know home 
                                                        is where you feel you belong.  

                                        ©2929 j.g. lewis

  • Evolution

    What we choose to carry
    across the sand, across the street,
    or through shadows that threaten or question,
    will influence how we walk
    across this planet.
    Implications. Allegations.

    Will you step meekly, leaving
    a faint footprint, pace forcefully
    forward, or drag your feet to leave a mark.
    Could you be left behind,
    a solemn slice of nostalgia?
    Outdated. Obsolete.

    How will the weight of a cruel world
    affect you? Keeping up with
    rapid technological advancement will silence you.
    It never remains the same;
    never will, nor will you.
    Decisions. Revisions.

    Sand will become stone, streets
    will grow into neighbourhoods, and
    skyscrapers will create doubt or a place to hide.
    Will you take comfort in isolation
    away from the sun?
    Confusion. Evolution.

    You will see your future more clearly
    with your eyes no longer squinting.
    Rest, as you can. Your mind is overflowing
    Your body is tired. This pace
    will leave you breathless.
    Persistence. Resistance.

    © 2018 j.g. lewis

     

  • Home In A Van

    by Patricia Morgan

    Home is movement of the heart
    And a conversation with nature.
    It’s the place of awe and wonder
    At unseen connections
    That brings all to a stop
    For a moment.

    Home is hearing what is
    Whispered, trilled, whooshed, or trickled.
    Hissed, soughed, or scratched…
    When the roar of humanity is silenced.
    It is the space that allows a deep exhale
    And a settling of the bones,
    The relaxation of the muscles to stay…
    To stay here today. Tomorrow, maybe there.

    Home is this song that has arrived
    When the heart quiets
    And a weaving of mind, body and spirit
    Forms its own state, free
    Of boundaries, barriers and walls,
    And the perseveration of thoughts.

    Home is a mobile tuning fork
    In harmony with its surroundings,
    Coming to rest in perfect attunement
    With community
    And nature
    And heart
    So perfectly
    There’s no need to leave…
    Until there is because
    Home is movement.

    Patricia Morgan has lived a migratory existence from Maryland to the South Pacific,
    from Oregon to Costa Rica, and currently resides in Washington.