poetry by j matthew waters

five hundred miles to go

there is no time for crying
only time for doing
before there is no time at all

I used to run with angels
but now they only shun me
tired of my unnecessary tirades
questioning who is right
and who is wrong

now that I find myself alone
able to stitch and sew
breathing easier as they say
comfortable with isolation
meditating and medicating

with a little help from outside forces
I’m finally coming to terms with
events long ago transpired
grudgingly forgiving myself
reluctantly moving on

september two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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