suspended breaths in retrograde
all these years I’ve denied my past
having brushed aside
my quirks and missteps as
everyday lessons
picking myself up without regret or remorse
moving forward with an uncertain purpose
as if there could never be an end
and now there is oxygen to consider
to feed those inner thoughts
reviving them so to speak
weighing good points against bad
neither condemning nor condoning
but simply acknowledging
how a young boy died to be a man
july two thousand eighteen
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