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: December 2022
What we expect and what we receive will often differ.
For days this city has been preparing for a big dump of snow. All we’ve been hearing about in the media is the weather pattern expected to come up from the states. On the news we see the images from provinces to our west and the near-blizzard conditions that have painted the landscape, but all we’ve got here is rain.
The anticipation of precipitation has held us in our place, prevented us from making plans or attempting travel near or far.
My prairie heritage has given me the expectation of snow in December, though here in Toronto the possibilities of a white Christmas lessen as each day goes by. It is not right if it’s not white, in my humble opinion.
So I’ll stay here watching the sky and waiting for snow. When expectations are unrealized, there is always hope.
12/16/2022 j.g.l.
Posted on December 15, 2022 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
We see, and feel, the dangers
in the absence of light. Untold and
unaccounted for, they do lay in wait.
Don’t let your light
become trapped by all this darkness.
Do not permit the winds of
negativity permeate your soft, shaken
self. Be selfless.
Throw open the cage
prohibiting you from free and easy
movement through the wonders of
this world, or that which keeps others
from sharing the bounty.
Yes, it can be difficult, but
are we not made for difficult things?
12/15/2022 j.g.l.
Posted on December 14, 2022 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
Imprints we leave on this planet, not always obvious, at times
apparent to so few. Each impression, even those certain to wash
away or be trampled upon by others, remains long past a fickle
expiry date. We call into question our rites and responsibilities,
some of which, or will be, the reason for continued depletion of
a world greedily inherited. Borrowed time. We need have less
of ourselves in the physical realm we leave behind. Walk softly.
Speak loudly. To acknowledge our failings, try as we might to
discourage unhealthy practices and advise those who we can and
those who will follow: humanity depends on far more than words.
Take action. Rage on; you may curse and wake the neighbours, or
scream until you are hoarse. Scornful lamentation expected now,
of course, considering we have clogged all our rivers with shit and
oil, and acid rain. Our skies flush with tactile toxins, ozone long
forgotten, we do it again and again. How have we not listened or
learned? Again, walk softly but speak loudly. Let someone else
know someone cares. Hypocrisy is not based in obvious honesty.
Beyond reckless integrity there lies responsibility. Grief. Guilt,
we are all to blame; again, part of this life’s shame. Politics deny
and deceive, as much as the many men speaking lies; any wonder
we are in this mess made up of unrealized intentions? To change,
as the climate has, we can ill-afford a cautious stance. There shall
not be a second chance, not again. We’ve wasted time, our breath,
a planet now inching close to death. Cocksure conspiracy theories
be damned, so little time to spare if we don’t react now. Speak up.
© 2022 j.g. lewis
