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.
Turn it off. Weary the mind. You’ve had your say
now allow time for those working, or trying, and
believing there may still be opportunity, perhaps
prosperity. If allowed. Can the dream still exist?
More and more it becomes less and less important.
I will not listen; or cannot, a more apt description,
to the incessant ignorance spilling from your lips.
My ears bleed, my heart aches, among this crush
of bigotry, inequality and blind trust misplaced.
I put on my headphones commanding ear-splitting
silence to shut out the numbing narcissistic diatribe
with its women-hating violence. You’ve said all that
you needed to get what you wanted, you bullied,
and prophesied, and threatened and taunted. Now
perpetuating insult with that firm hypocritical
stance, adding insult to illusion, capitalizing on
chance. It’s less about being chosen, and now
what you choose, because my motherhood issues
are a far cry from your motherfucking truths.
© 2022 j.g. lewis
