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poetry by j matthew waters

my shaman


my shaman is a musician
sitting in grandma’s rocking chair
her nylon-stringed classical guitar
strapped across his shoulder

months go by without knowing
his arrivals or departures
i imagine he’s playing her music
to a sold-out crowd in need

the mosh pit implosion gives rise
to a new kind of attention
where misunderstood children
believe in second chances

though my shaman has no wings
his imperfect compositions
sail beyond the faintest star
giving light where there is none




august two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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4 thoughts on “my shaman

  1. cyberbonn on said:

    ❤ it

  2. This is a creative piece. You can’t read the first stanza without going on to find out more.

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