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.
In This Country
Posted on June 30, 2021 by j.g.lewis
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We are Canadian.
We live on stolen land.
How should we celebrate that?
We have lived lies, unknowingly or otherwise, following blindly
in the firm footsteps of our forefathers. By default, we absorbed
their secrets and sins.
We have uprooted families, taken their young, and forced them
onto bleak lands without resources as essential as safe drinking water.
Still, to this day, in this country.
Canada.
We made gallant attempts to convert our ways into theirs by force
or by fraud, overlooking injustice, upholding our selfish direction.
Human rights denied: no; ignored.
We took what was not ours, without shame, without dignity.
Are we not savages?
Politicizing promises, ignoring treaty rights, we have elected
governments that allowed our First Nations peoples to be treated
merely as inconveniences.
Long shadows of colonialism cast further darkness onto lives
that will never know the daily freedoms only some of us enjoy.
Certainly not hundreds of souls secretly buried without account,
without honour, without names.
Once a rumour; do we now know the truth?
What else can we honestly learn about ourselves?
Who poses the questions? Who will answer?
If religion is this country’s strongest available excuse, will we now
question whether our moral compass has ever known a true North?
How do you celebrate that?
© 2021 j.g. lewis
