Mondays are just young Fridays

Pick up what’s left of the shadow that has been trailing you for a week or three, the one you have noticed even when the sun hasn’t been shining as it should.

Of course there have been distractions (there always is), even as your nerves are beginning to fray, and all those anxieties still follow you, surprisingly so, on any old day.

Intermittent rain washes away hopes and plans dreamed on and diminished now. Still, you have the time and, more importantly, you have the mind to make it all happen. You’ve got something more important to say.

10/14/2023 j.g.l.

on its own

Poetry is power, and poetry is
a weakness, as much cowardice
as courage. A delightful
contradiction, it sucks at your
soul, and, like a fussy infant,
cannot wait to be fed. More.
Not to be silenced until sated.
Nourished then,
it so slips into gentle slumber,
life’s rhythm allowing dreams and
sweet solace, only to wake soiled
and screaming. Comfort comes
with a soothing voice, gentle touch,
and reassurance. Flesh and blood,
innocent for only a while, it grows
alongside you, until it stands
on its own.
Poetry.
You give it life, then it to you.

Mondays are just young Fridays

One year since. . .

The death toll rises each day in this certain uncertainty. A geopolitical conflict, its consequences spilling out across this planet and onto the streets of my city. Distanced from the direct atrocities of another war, it is more than tension we feel in the neighborhoods where we live.

Every day the headlines speak to me. Every day there are more questions than answers.

How many bombs?

How many dead?

How many prayers?

How many times, in my lifetime, have I heard about the possibility of Middle East peace?

I, still, can only try to understand.

I too live with the fear, the grief, and the polarization of it all.

10/07/2024 j.g.l.

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Every Picture Tells A Story

Posted on September 21, 2016 by j.g.lewis // 1 Comment

An extended weekend of amazing live music and wonderful weather; well, musical performances so great that you forget about the rainy Saturday sandwiched between Friday and Sunday.

The Toronto Urban Roots Festival — in the middle of the city at the tail end of a long hot summer — welcomed performers from across the planet with enthusiastic crowds. With four stages stretched out at Fort York Garrison Commons, the diversity of the line-up meant there was something for every mood, every age and style. There was not a single disappointment to the weekend, not even the rain.

If a picture is worth a thousand words, I’ll just let the photographs tell the story.

Pictured below: The Hives, James Bay, Explosions in the Sky, Whitehorse, Lake Street Drive, The Sheepdogs, Matt Mays, The Sadies, Matthew Good, The New Pornographers.