We live in a world of what ifs.
What if we did something else,
or what if we weren’t there (as
sometimes we shouldn’t be
when it comes down to the
wrong place at the right time).
What if it never happened?
What if we had responded
differently or if we had taken
the advice we were told?
Would we have been so bold?
05/30/2023 j.g.l.
Is what you do enough?
For who?
For you?
Self-doubt?
Self-love?
Self-centered?
Is it selfish to think mainly
of what I need to do for me,
myself, and I?
Why?
When will I find resolve to
my never-ending queries?
Will it be enough?
Do you still doubt?
Do you struggle with answers,
as much as the questions?
Can you decide?
Are you trying?
Is that enough?
05/23/2023 j.g.l.
I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
I found a feather on the sidewalk
Delicate. Natural. Out of place
on an urban pathway littered
by disposed-of coffee cups, cigarette butts
scattered carelessly across the landscape, with
pet waste, unabashed ignorance and exhaust fumes;
traces of society’s irresponsibility.
No end in sight. Yet there, without notice,
a treasure waiting to be found,
or witnessed.
All I know is what I see.
I have only heard of Native spirituality and
a belief that when a feather falls to earth
it carries the energy of its owner
to a living being.
A gift from the sky.
I sent the feather to a faraway friend,
one who feels she is lost, at times, even
among friends and the familiarity of home.
Gravity keeps her grounded,
but not comfortable.
By her own account, the world weighs heavily,
as it does with each of us, at times.
We all struggle — the fortunate less frequently —
we are all fragile.
You are not human if you are not.
Pulled in many directions, we cannot step forward
when doubt is a distraction and purpose is given,
not discovered. You are not whole
when the words you think will not find a place.
Debt becomes despair.
Neither here nor there.
I sent a feather to a faraway friend, knowing
one feather alone will not repair the damage
that has been done, yet the gift may serve
as a reminder she can still fly.
© 2018 j.g. lewis
I’m like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
4 replies on “A Gift From The Sky”
I don’t reply to all of your missives each morning, but know I read them and I love all your thoughts . Thank you.
I am humbled. Thank you for following.
I keep a feather next to a small urn of my husband’s cremains.
a gift, and a reminder. stay blessed.