the power of repetition
I practiced day and night
but never could quite get it right
I recited words and knew them by heart
but by the time it was my turn
they escaped me and I had to walk away
silenced by critics
I had no idea even existed
they cast me back into my own little world
this joyful place
this safe place where I could simply practice
the guitar
the piano
the flute and the fife and my voice
using my fingers
and my breath with uncontrolled precision
I learned various versions of the
star spangled banner
and all along the watchtower
over time creating polished renditions
that I could selfishly call my own
I sang in the shower
and recited poetry walking wooded
trails on the outskirts of town
practicing for the sake of practicing
and for no other reason
and it was times like these I was
at my happiest
november two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
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