poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “salvation”

interstellar communique

invisible hands mend broken thought
sweeping what can’t be salvaged
into the recycling bin

roses now grow
in the ditches of abandoned roads
colorful vegetation
wild & plush
painting over what used to be

faraway atop dilapidated roofs
angels eat lemons
waiting on their orders
pointing at the darkening clouds

the names are transmitted via waves
one after the other
an ever-expanding virtual list
of those who may be saved
followed by all the others

may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Take me to the river

Not so random acts of madness
attack all corners of the world
leaving me with a bluesy feeling
I can’t seem to overcome

I barely hear your raspy breathing
passing through undefined lines
your outreached arms
nearly invisible in my peripheral
your cries indecipherable
beneath a rubble of mistrust

Who will show us the way
to safely reach the River Jordan
where its healing powers
give light and rebirth
to those seeking to start anew

november two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

saving the next city

how many miles we traveled
far from shore I do not know
the early morning city lights
flickering atop gentle waves
skyscrapers sinking into their
self-induced holes as
madmen rush to resurrect them

the fish were striking at an incredible
pace and the captain had trouble
resetting all the downriggers
while house flies persistently bit
the whitest of legs
reminding the youngest of men
everything comes with a price

at the end of the day as the boat
drifted back to shore
there were no women or children
welcoming them back home

there were no lights
no music streaming from pipes

but the streets
the streets they were weeping
streets littered by madmen
already destroying the next city

june two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

here to stay

I stood at the podium
declaring my faith to a world
I once called home

the strangers in front of me
knelt and lifted their arms
anticipating a deliverance
they had only dared to dream

as I breathed into the hall
they began to understand
freedom was here to stay

september two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the healer

put a band-aid on it
she said

and walk it off
it’ll be all right

those words stayed
with me
for countless years

whenever I happen upon
someone injured
whether they be a child
or a woman
or an old man
I see her transitioning
from a healer who couldn’t save herself
to a guardian angel on steroids

april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

pocket jesus

i wandered the open market
looking for nothing in particular
when a young girl motioned me
from a little blue booth

she held out her hand
some sort of oval silver coin
placed on her palm

what is it i asked

it is yours she said

no it’s not mine i said
i’ve never seen this before

please take it she said
i want you to have it

i lifted the oval silver coin from her palm
and held it between my thumb and forefinger

with my other hand i reached into my shirt pocket
for my reading glasses

it’s a pocket jesus she said

yes i see that now i said
how much do you want for it

it’s priceless she said

as i left the open market
i could hear my pocket jesus
mingling with my american presidents
and i imagined what a lovely scheme
they must be cooking
to finish me off dead broke
but unafraid

march two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

the bracelet

the bracelet fits perfectly
as if handcrafted
just for me

i found the bracelet
buried two feet deep
in my neighbor’s wooded
lot as i transgressed
with metal detector in hand
hoping to find pieces
from a past
i could somehow
put back together

within the safety
of my own property
i bring the bracelet
back to life
and pray its magic
will never end

february two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

a promise enlisted

i gave you my promise
and you ran with it
all the way across the country
where you boarded a ship
destination i don’t know

you tried saving the planet
with my promise
attached to you at all times
like it was part of the dog tags
hanging from your neck

by the time they shipped you
back to the states
the promise had expired
lost to the heavens
awaiting for me there

september two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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