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.
If we wait too long
for the stars to align, for
some kind of hope, or
some kind of sign,
if we let our lives hang on
still-bated breath, we will
forever wonder
what is still to come
or what we have left. If we
don’t own the moments,
or make them our own,
will we ever feel like
we’ve made our way home?
If we can’t be honest
with others, and especially
our selves,
can we ever explain why
or how
we once felt?
If we wait too long, it
may never arrive.
Stop waiting,
start doing,
start feeling alive.
© 2016 j.g. lewis
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.
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
