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.
Month: September 2021
Our memory is often deep and wide, but surely lessens over time.
We are reminded, once in a while, of how things were or how things hurt, but we are selective in what we remember.
We have to be.
Leftover pain, again and again, still numbs like it did and hurts like it always will.
09/12/2021 j.g.l.
Posted on September 11, 2021 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
Boundaries
we come to know, and believe.
Tried, tested, often failed.
How can we reach out if we don’t know
how far we have gone from stranger
to acquaintance. Or lovers.
Former to later.
Boundaries seemed not to matter.
Overwhelmed, still and again,
self-doubt and denial I am unable to confess
even to myself.
And you.
We may long for the same things
in different places
Boundaries undefined.
We may never know who we are
and still we see.
Beyond this naked ambiguity, we clutch our breath,
gobsmacked at the power or potential
of what could happen.
Love, acceptance,
expressed, received.
It is not logic that takes us
where we want to go, but
emotion that pulls us along.
We see in others
what we want to see.
We look past boundaries
when this sense of unknowing
is all that you know.
© 2018 j.g. lewis
Posted on September 10, 2021 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
The flowers concern themselves
with only today. Another night
without frost, or the sprinkling
of rain, is not a celebration but
a reason to do it all over again.
With unknown consequences,
each day becomes each day; it
will anyway. Make the best of it.
09/10/2021 j.g.l.
