"The Waters," A Poetry Post

You would not believe
the waters
God
brought me through.

Murky birthing waters.
Turbulent raising waters.
Violent growing waters.
Dark, disturbing waters.
Red, thick lonely waters.
Entangling, choking waters.

Dead waters.

Living, enrapturing waters.
Drowning and sputtering.

Sad still motionless waters.
Fearful high-crested waters.

Tsunamis of discouragement.
Crushing, constricting waters.
Deep brown swamp waters.
Predators.

Undertows.

A little girl ill-equipped to swim,
ill-equipped to swim and
unprepared to lay back and float.

Tossed out into an ocean of
networks of waters.
Whirlpool waters.
Dehydrating salt waters.
Pruning tepid night waters.
Tanning cool all-day waters.

For teaching me to tread,
God I thank You.
For teaching me to swim,
God I thank You.
For teaching me to breathe,
God I thank You.
For teaching me to wait,
God I thank You.

-T. D. James-Moss