This eleventh month comes suddenly.
You notice the morning chill
but only remembered the night before.

Dawn is the lifeline connecting
what you avoid and all you face.
Daily, hourly, incrementally towards full sun,
or a reasonable facsimile.

Daily it changes, the hour uncertain,
we split our time between the gentle
light of the moon and the day’s reflection
of the silent senseless wonder

Memories capsized, plans revert to
what we don’t know and never expect
Anticipation. The confluence of influence
undeniably intricate.

Once force to another, a morning
monopolizing time. Night a natural
state of wonder, senseless as it seems.
November brings us closer to the edge
of a new year. All we can do is wait.

© 2023 j.g. lewis 

In the bigger picture there is love.  
In this life there is evil, hatred, and death.  
Even greater misfortunes compound and 
threaten our existence. Inconceivably so. 
Wars rage against humanity, our prayers  
for peace continually ignored. 
 
I cannot understand what I can do. 
 
Unfortunate we can’t feel it all, or feel at all,  
through the depths of desolation and abomination  
we read about or view on technicolor screens  
within our comfortable existence on 
this side of the planet.  
This uncomfortable world. 
 
I feel hopeless when I want to feel love. 
 
Hatred has spread like ash across the globe with  
a greater vengeance than the fires that consumed us  
throughout the year. Fingertips trace our hopes,  
deftly scratching the surface, a dignified definition  
we can only dream on. The climate has changed 
geopolitically and environmentally.  
 
I can’t understand the cause. 
 
I cannot comprehend the convictions.  
Humankind needs to scratch deeper; we need to feel.  
We cannot accept that which we do not understand. 
I can only want love, even more than peace. 
I hear the cries, even from a distance. 
Still, we watch. And still we wait, understandably so.
 

© 2023 j.g. lewis 

Silently, or suspiciously standing in one place,
in between unsteady steps I take throughout the day. 
Waiting, even for a moment. Respite for the time being,
perhaps, not even knowing why. Questioning, unquestionably,
each of us continuously striving to keep moving at our own pace,
Caught up in this human race, surviving, maybe thriving as we try to
determine the flow we know is best. We think. 
A little later today, earlier for some, we all have a path; a better way,
leading to better day. Moving in different directions, sometimes hastily,
as required. Some of us are simply limping along.
The weight on our shoulders slows us down. We must, once
in a while, stop and let it settle. Far more than waiting. Unconscious
thinking, our minds move, even if our feet are firmly planted. Progress
not always certain, we can only hope our intentions continue
propelling us further. It has to be more than hope,
yet we still we try to keep it all in stride.

© 2023 j.g. lewis

I hear you, more than I listen to myself.
Messages of caution or concern,
statements of grace, sentiment
not fallen on inattentive ears.

The words we can,
the words we must,
the words we say.
The words we trust

And this. And we, are we
even comfortable with our vocabulary?
Do we know or can we tell,
right words from the wrong?

Conversation or confrontation, depending
on your situation, those same words mean
something else to someone else.
It’s becomes even more difficult to tell.

The words we say.
The words we hear,
spell out misunderstanding.
Injustice. Pain or fear

Shared experience, descriptions,
details, doubt and deception at times
difficult to put into words.
Our emotions demand that they must.

Honesty is what it is, as it has
always been, but spoken less and less
more and more. It matters not how you
express yourself, only that you do.

© 2020 j.g. lewis

It is not what I have done, but what I still must do.
Reminders, lists; they come to you, without warning.

A song. A sound, a scent; shades of the past, of
time long expired or relationships that didn’t last.

Grocery lists of what to get, sticky notes remind you
of what not to forget. Still, I often do. Or I will try.

How can I decide? Indecision pushes it all to the side
or out of sight. Only recall allows it to survive. Inside.

Little bits and pieces of unnecessary nonsense strewn
about the stacks of essential things that must get done.

Amidst the mental clutter, superfluous stuff to be silently
sacrificed. Forgotten, until memories come rushing back.

Trauma will not disappear. It will, over time, dissipate,
but always remains close enough to feel. Unneeded.

Reminders are varied, something that serves to keep alive
clandestine keepsakes. Observed only by yourself.

© 2023 j.g. lewis