Author: Jeremiah Ray

Jeremiah Ray is an interdisciplinary artist and writer. His visual artwork reflects an ongoing journey of exploration. Having traveled extensively during his formative years, he aims to teach others how to discover their unique voices in art, believing that it transcends verbal communication. In 2016, after being diagnosed with advanced testicular cancer, his perspective on art shifted significantly. This experience heightened his awareness of the challenges associated with vulnerability and communication. Guided by these themes, Jeremiah has embarked on a personal journey of healing and self-discovery.

i bought a suit jacket
and an overcoat,
pants, socks and
leather shoes.
the shoes were
portuguese, not
italian, but they
did the job.
i had big plans,
plans i entertained.
i sat there
on the bed in the
hotel.
i sat there
and sat there
and thought about
everything.
all the flights
were cancelled,
hurricane force winds
they said,
so it seemed everyone
was looking for
a hotel.
i guess i
was lucky.
it never really
got dark;
the light just paled
slightly this time
of year.
i thought of
the countryside;
it was treeless
and windswept.
i thought of my
newly purchased
portuguese leather
shoes and how
far I could walk
in them.
all the flights
were cancelled,
hurricane force winds,
so they said.
the daylight
faded slightly and turned
to that milky, off-white
color that
was considered night.
i finally
went to sleep
and left the following
morning when the
winds died down.
on the end of the
bed i left
my new attire;
i neatly
folded my suit
jacket and overcoat,
my pants and new socks.
i left the leather portuguese
shoes, too.
they weren’t italian,
but they got
the job done.

i can’t imagine it
burning out so quick
bright so bright
a screaming brightness
then burning out
so quick
a dazzling intensity
and then nothing
it must be hard
such desire
alongside such fear

i awake.
i don’t check the clock.
the world is
a murmur
now.
behind the curtains
the sky is a dull gray.
i think about the
time difference
and wonder if this
dull gray sky is everywhere;
does it stretch all
the way?
does it touch you?
this would be our
only connection now.
but surely it is
day there,
the world
no longer a murmur.
tomorrow, however,
you will wake to
dull light
and wonder if
your gray sky
stretches over to
me, too.
we will exchange this;
the question posed
when we wake
in the night
and wonder about
the dull murmur of
the world
and the gray sky…
and then
one day we won’t.