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: October 2023
In the bigger picture there is love.
In this life there is evil, hatred, and death.
Even greater misfortunes compound and
threaten our existence. Inconceivably so.
Wars rage against humanity, our prayers
for peace continually ignored.
I cannot understand what I can do.
Unfortunate we can’t feel it all, or feel at all,
through the depths of desolation and abomination
we read about or view on technicolor screens
within our comfortable existence on
this side of the planet.
This uncomfortable world.
I feel hopeless when I want to feel love.
Hatred has spread like ash across the globe with
a greater vengeance than the fires that consumed us
throughout the year. Fingertips trace our hopes,
deftly scratching the surface, a dignified definition
we can only dream on. The climate has changed
geopolitically and environmentally.
I can’t understand the cause.
I cannot comprehend the convictions.
Humankind needs to scratch deeper; we need to feel.
We cannot accept that which we do not understand.
I can only want love, even more than peace.
I hear the cries, even from a distance.
Still, we watch. And still we wait, understandably so.
© 2023 j.g. lewis
Posted on October 24, 2023 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
The lines outline where we are, in
moments and more. Each step
we take, each day we make some
sort of mark on the landscape.
Our life, as temporary as it seems,
continues to pass us by.
Season by season.
We must embrace the reminders
of who we are, not what we
have been. Like where you are
will constantly change from
where you have been.
At times it is a blur.
We remain convinced by this
confusion, and seldom make the
right assumptions, in the moments
where we wish to define ourselves.
10/24/2023 j.g.l.
Posted on October 23, 2023 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
When things don’t work as they are supposed to, as you count on them to function, as we go about our daily tasks, we become frustrated.
So little is truly reliable: technology, or temperament.
When we don’t work, as we are expected (or expect ourselves) to function with our usual reliance (or resilience), the frustration increases.
Expectations unfulfilled.
Machine or man, we expect a certain regularity to maintain the order of our life. It is what we have become accustomed to: reliability.
Dependability. Trustworthiness. It is a responsibility to ourselves, if nothing else. What can we do when we trust less and doubt more?
Some questions cannot be answered when the response is not what is required. And still, we are expected to function today or any day.
10/23/2023 j.g.l.
