she told me I needed to go do
something before dinner
so I went to my room and prayed
she was my mother and
of course there was no room
but regardless I left the
premises and prayed
along the way I found interesting
things to pick up
but each piece I brought home
served no purpose
you should stick with praying
she said
and so I agreed
july two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I gave birth to peace and named her chance
raised her sheltered from the realities
of a desperate world
coming of age she traveled abroad
fell in love with mercenary work
promising to end man’s repeated mistakes
and reverse the cycle of madness
she circled the globe to feed the hungry
and comfort the orphaned
mending open wounds from strangers
protecting their own unresolved pasts
on rare occasions she fell to her knees
and cursed me for her failures
the pain in her prayers piercing my arm
reminding me
just how much I miss her
november two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there’s no going back they said
speaking omnisciently from
their holier than thou prophecies
their interstellar ambitions
went far beyond
conceptual matter
went far beyond anything
this side of the sun
space travel is like a slingshot
they explained in ancient
texts blown to pieces and
heat-seeking exoplanets
like some uncensored comet
like aliens trapped in human bodies
they continually pray for change
on so many different levels
october two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
they locked down the schools
and called on the bloodhounds
from three counties away
human chains stretched across
the countryside carrying
torches and kicking stones
holding hands they waded into
cedar lake until they could
no longer breathe
throughout the city church lights
enlivened stain glass windows
well into the wee hours of the night
in the morning there was still no news
not counting the posse that
galloped out of town at daybreak
december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
blank card unfolds
with pencil in hand
as I sit in silence
waiting for the words
instead I draw
a little lost boy
in pursuit of his soul
in the cherished woods
a network of leaves forbids
the sun from shining
upon the moss-covered floor
as the sounds of the silent march
carry on
the young man calls
into the branches
certain someone above
understands his prayer
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
