Days, weeks, then months
and years drift by.
Not always noticeable, or even
memorable, the time behind us
simply accumulates. All in all,
the sum of its parts leads to
a life well-lived, if you take
a moment to notice.
09/10/2024 j.g.l.
Mondays are just young Fridays
It’s not about height
or breadth, or depth.
It is all about perspective.
What limits you?
How far can you see?
To what end do you
appreciate what is in front of you?
Looking back is hindsight
and you have already been there.
Change your point of view.
Look up.
Don’t overlook opportunities.
What are your limits?
09/09/2024 j.g.l.
within
Secrets are rarely as heavy as
the weight we assign to them.
The gravity of circumspect
plays out, time and again. It is
what we carry as we decide
what crosses, or is held within,
our moral divide.
Sit with it for a while, moved
only when memory comes into
play; last night, or the other, or
any other day.
09/05/2024 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.
Again and Again
Posted on April 14, 2021 by j.g.lewis
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After rain, or tears, have extinguished
flames of many candles, diminished now
to stiff wax puddles from last night or
the one before that.
Flowers wilted on the street, solemn vigil
is over, but anger remains. Community grief
is necessary. People hurt together, even
heal together. When allowed.
Until next night, or the one after that. Another
mass shooting, traffic stop or another situation
where race meets hate. Another protest over
another death. Never changes.
Again and again, lives once lived, stories told,
never-ending headlines. Grief forever knows
no boundaries. Another night, another life
gone. Hate makes waste.
© 2021 j.g. lewis
