We tire of unpredictable weather, the damp morning chill, wet socks and lost mittens. Winter keeps reminding it is not through with us.
We have suffered long enough.
The streets are tired and dirty and the time change only makes things darker in the morning.
We need a brighter view.
We need, now, the renewal that comes with spring.
03/20/2023 j.g.l.
Progress comes less from planning than participation.
Dreams and wishes require action and attention.
Start moving.
03/19/2023 j.g.l.
If we wait too long
for the stars to align, for
some kind of hope, or
some kind of sign,
if we let our lives hang on
still-bated breath, we will
forever wonder
what is still to come
or what we have left. If we
don’t own the moments,
or make them our own,
will we ever feel like
we’ve made our way home?
If we can’t be honest
with others, and especially
our selves,
can we ever explain why
or how
we once felt?
If we wait too long, it
may never arrive.
Stop waiting,
start doing,
start feeling alive.
© 2016 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.
For many of us, Mothers exist
only in memory.
We had our time, but never enough.
Unconditional love, never
realized or respected.
Even then, as we grew older,
even, then, as did they too,
we remained
a child in their eyes,
in their heart,
in their thoughts.
They wanted only the best for us,
and gave all they had.
So much to learn,
patience and understanding
taught by example.
Wisdom in hindsight.
The words, the voice, the comfort
comes in small doses
when you need it most.
Maybe a certain day with flowers
and cards to celebrate
is not enough. How could it be?
Isn’t it every day, not just
the once-in-a-while,
when the love shows through?
Let peace be, ceremoniously.
Cherish the moments,
so much to yearn.
They only wanted the best for us
and would sacrifice
their comfort for ours.
For many of us
only scattered memories,
with moments for some
still to come.
Either way
there is always time
to whisper
I love you Mom.
© 2017 j.g. lewis
© 2017 j.g. lewis
