jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “trauma”

27 Jan 2025

Aftermath


I don’t belong here
where the skies have been crying
longer than a fortnight
and the birds of the air
have all but disappeared
their morning songs
but a distant memory

The once vibrant town has turned
into a populace of grey ghosts
roaming directionless
an aftermath of fire & brimstone
unleashed on the innocent
by someone or something
with an unknown agenda

I don’t belong here
where there is no mercy
where those I once cherished
have turned their backs
& walked away without explanation
leaving the world I once knew
barely recognizable


january two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in In the City, Poetry and tagged , , , | Leave a comment
21 Dec 2024
2 Comments

running scared


I put on my running shoes
and ran

it was sunday morning
but the fog said otherwise

I ran and disappeared into nothingness

later somebody told me I saw you
but then you were gone
as if engulfed by nature
swallowed by low-lying clouds
that had swooped in like a murmuration

I said I didn’t intend to return
but then the sun appeared out of nowhere
burning my eyes

it was then I ran blindly back to where
I had started

but the important thing is you returned
somebody said

yes of course I replied
I felt like I had no other choice
considering how I still appeared to be alive


december two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Posted in Poetry and tagged , , ,
13 Dec 2024

missing pieces


seven years of bad luck
staring at me from the
rearview mirror

I was told I could never
look at myself in the same manner
in which I had grown accustom

that there wasn’t a mechanism
to put the pieces back together
—so I learned to get along anyway
as if living in an alternative world

one in which reflections
remain out of focus
only occasionally seen
from within


december two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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10 Sep 2024

inside this house


this house is scarred
from a past that cannot be buried

counting the number of wounds
is an impossible endeavor

at any given moment one of them
will interrupt
your train of thought
perhaps even put you in a trance

trying to downplay their existence
is fruitless
like the chokeberry bush
planted so many years ago
—as if cursed from the beginning

in this place
the clock always stops at midnight
maybe for a minute
but at times tenfold longer
suspending
any & all breath within


september two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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30 Aug 2023

a personal assault at high noon


it was like any other day
the sun rising in the east
a blackbird on the second
story windowsill
pretending to be a rooster

and so I awakened
& rose to my feet
prepared to dare as I also do
going through the motions
(as they say)
early morning until noon

it was then my pulse
began to race
the watch on my wrist
telling me so
beating ninety times per minute
then one hundred
one ten
one twenty
and so on & so forth

dormant memories appeared
out of nowhere
visions before my very eyes
—I reached out my hands
to grasp them
to press them against my beating heart
but they proved to be as fleeting
as life itself
and quickly vanished
into thin air





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

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29 Aug 2023

Self-examining the scars


I was told I was born with wings
but my parents had them
surgically removed

They could not have been my parents
I tell myself some thirty years later
addressing the naked truth in front
of a full length mirror
turning one shoulder in
while straining my neck sideways
turning the other shoulder similarly
straining my neck
the other way





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

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