This is a city. These are the streets; a bed for some, deathbed for another. Another sister or another brother. Mine may well sleep in comfort, as I will when I stop thinking about economic uncertainty, global recession, personal depression, unconsciously random gun violence, the ever-escalating opiod crisis and the apparent absence of humanity. Yes, I try to give enough (or live enough) yet between unkempt obligations and the finality of it all, my patience is such that I mainly look on, voyeur-like. Even the shame has found a place I can comfortably live with. Guilt is such a useless emotion; I have convinced myself of such, thinking deeply and distractively of the ambivalent imbalance. There are those unhoused and incapable of making it on their own. Have we the time, or the means, to dig a little deeper, even lessen the extremes? How can we when most of us know these sullen circumstances are maybe a paycheque or two away from a reality most of us refuse to acknowledge. Will you, can you, imagine what it feels like to go without? Are you comfortable with that? This is the air we breath, the toxic humidity of greed and misfortune forced upon a society entirely unsure of its way, ushered on by politicians entirely missing the point, incapable of imagining a city beyond their beliefs. This is a city I feel I no longer belong in. These are the streets I only walk on, stepping through people discarded along the way like tainted needles and dog shit. This is a sadness I feel I only know is there. There is the certainty of shame.

© 2023 j.g. lewis

Dawn will come, it always does.

It may take a little longer, depending on your mood.
It might not be as bright as expected, but few of us are.

It will last such a brief moment.

Dawn is like that.

You may have to wait through the darkness for some time,
full daylight arrives, except soon the moment will disappear.

So much left unsaid.

So little to say for yourself.

It comes without thinking, yet
there is so much anticipation.

Dawn appears just like that.

You have waited long enough.

© 2023 j.g. lewis

Detours and distractions, a path filled with exploration,
                               adventure, and the occasional mishap.

                                 Rear-view mirrors provide no option
                                 when you are focused straight ahead.

Question the direction.

                   I will forget reverse, I have already let it pass.
                 I will not need a compass, but require an atlas.

There are too many destinations to be confined to a map.

© 2023 j.g. lewis

Often, occasionally, sporadically,
even spontaneously,
I make mistakes.
They happen naturally:
a missed word or apostrophe,
my mind gets moving and
I fail to see the errs of my ways,
or errors throughout the day.
It is, or was, or has been
when I write or what I say.
Incidentally or accidentally,
it goes without saying,
but the fact remains
I make mistakes.
Every day.
We learn from our mishaps, or
should anyway, we try to
improve and continue
to count the ways. What we do
and how we behave
counts for a lot.
My eraser rubbed raw
by attempts and change,
I continue to make mistakes.
Forgive me please when
my thoughts go amiss, and
remember I am human amidst
this confusion or corruption
we all experience.
I make mistakes,
I may fail or fall,
yet remain myself, flaws and all.

© 2018 j.g. lewis

The Japanese technique of kintsugi involves filling cracks and chips in broken porcelain or pottery with gold, leaving the obvious in a more useable state.
   In the process of reparation, the once-broken object is transformed and becomes, again, useful.
   The philosophy of the art itself is so applicable to the art of everyday living.
   We are all broken, in places, the scuffs and cracks in our being becoming obvious more times than others. Some cracks are deep — running straight through to our foundation —  while others are more superficial: lines on our face or breaks in the skin that need to be tended to.
   Aren’t we all, on any dimension, in need of repair?
   It is how we fill our cracks that make us whole.
   The pursuit of a passion or personally fulfilling activity, time spent with loved ones, sole (or soul) meditation, the search or study of literature or prayer, are purposeful methods of filling the gaps.
   These moments are golden.
   We can become whole again by filling the spaces in our lives, however deep. In doing so, we become stronger.
   As Leonard Cohen famously wrote: “There is a crack in everything, that is how the light gets in.”
   Cracks have a purpose (kitsugi highlights this) but we need to be aware of the breaks in our patterns; in our time; in our lives.
   The cracks remind us what needs to be tended to.
   We incorporate our wounds into our presence.
   It is the whole of our object, flaws and all, that provide the individuality of our personal beauty.

© 2023 j.g. lewis