Who can you blame?
Are the feelings unjust when a decision is a matter of knowing you must find fault or favour with the ill winds of change?
It is never enough to simply rearrange plans or predicaments. It is like making a prediction of all my flaws with my faith as fractured or fragile as it is, or has been.
Far easier to see what I haven’t been doing.
03/24/2023 j.g.l.
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.
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 am numb.
Actually, I am sickened by Monday’s developing news about four pedestrians killed by a truck Sunday evening in a city not that far away from me. Then it was reported a fourth person, a boy, who also suffered serious injuries.
It was later reported that all victims were three generations of the same family, who were hit when a truck jumped the curb at an intersection.
By Monday night, it was reported that it was not an accident, but a premeditated attack on a Muslim family.
The nine-year old boy has lost his father, mother, sister and grandmother: targets of a 20-year-old man who deliberately drove onto the sidewalk and mowed down this family.
He did so because they were Muslim.
It was a racial attack.
It was mass murder.
The driver has been charged with four counts of first-degree murder and one count of attempted murder. Police have said other charges, including terrorism, are possible.
We’ll learn more as the week progresses, even more when the driver, barely out of his teens, appears in court Thursday.
The investigation continues and the news spreads – like sadness, grief, fear, and anger – across this country; across this globe.
It was an act of terrorism, said Canada’s Prime Minister Justin Trudeau.
My heart and soul reverberates with each piece of news from every broadcast I hear. My eyes tear up as I read newspapers and points of view on social media.
I can make no sense of this.
I don’t think like that.
This was a family out for a walk together on a warm spring evening, one of the few things we can do, as a family, in these COVID-19 lockdown days.
They were attacked.
They were killed because of what they represented to one man.
I don’t like thinking about it, can hardly write about it, and don’t want to talk about it; but I must.
We all must talk more openly about racism and hatred in any form.
We must talk with family, friends and strangers.
We must speak out against hate. And discrimination. We must speak out against violence, in action and intention, against others.
We must do this together.
We are all human.
Speak out against hate
Speak up for others
Speak up for your self.
Speak up for this family.
© 2021 j.g.lewis
2 replies on “Sadness, grief, fear, and anger”
I am in such total agreement. Because of the continued hate that seems to be spewing forth like a broken fire hydrant, I’m finding it harder and harder to pay any attention to the news, feeling like if I do, I’m actually feeding the hate, giving it credence. I just do not understand at all. It feels like mankind is a ruptured and oozing boil, spreading its infectious ugliness to all. I always appreciate your comments though I’m not sure how it helps our sick, sick society. We who read you are already aware of the problem; those who are the problem close the book, slam the door, against any suggestion that their beliefs are morally and ethically wrong. I too am saddened, grief stricken, and angry — and feeling so helpless other than to try to love and care and respect everyone that I meet, hoping that the lack of confrontation is enough to destroy their hateful beliefs. Dunno. Dunno. But thank you, every day, for your thoughts.
It’s all too much. Every day there is more. It hurts.
I write to let it out and, at times, it won’t flow.
We all need to keep trying. Thank you for coming.
deep peave