ready. aim. fire.
wielding rifle or bow and arrow
shooting apples out of the sky
see how they fall one by one
nobody on the ground to catch them
a collection basket on sunday
quickly filling with thoughts and prayers
empty promises passed from one
lost soul to the next
hush money as they say
as if the original atrocity wasn’t enough
watch where you’re aiming young man
otherwise your fiery missile
could miss and hit
the broadside of the moon
thereby unleashing untold consequences
january two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
Hatred spawns hatred. Perhaps, one day, we will all see ourselves as one. Very well written.
So true, Chris. Thank you for commenting on this piece.
Especially love the second stanza…
“empty promises passed from one
lost soul to the next” is very apt
Thanks so much, Melanie.
a very meaningful poem
Thank you, Padmini. It’s nice to find you here again and hoping all is well with you and yours.
Thank you so much. Wishing you a very Happy New Year. I was away on a holiday, so couldn’t blog or visit.