John Matthews

2015 Warrior Care Month Healing Arts


We are patriotic, proud and unwavering
We live life, laugh, love and cry…We are still human
To realize our discomfort, is to witness our healing

We are authentic, unique and unbreakable
We want to be challenged, not forgotten
Others can lead us to opportunities, but it is we who must engage

Interconnected by a indestructible bond, familiar to few
We are indebted to inner selves, we demand no demands
Our strength originates from our spirituality, for we are never alone

Our sacrifices have caused us to redefine normal
We overcome and adjust, relentlessly fighting an apparently never-ending battle
Will our demons ever let us go?

We know who we are and where we’ve been
We have a dynamic role in our futures
We are the chosen ones …We are Combat Wounded Warriors


Outwardly transparent, with beaming colors overflow
Imprecisely balanced, propelling only as required

A drift, yet on course
Appearing awry in flight

Keenly swaying, stirred by the crisp autumn breeze
Pursuing nectar from that final, late summer bloom

Flying solo, airborne on the high planes
Voyaging the Napa, congregated by the thousands
Colors transcending the pastel heavens
Tender and indispensable
An exact flair of design
Kingly creature, a monarch worthy of it’s title

On Days Off

On days off,
Take a walk through the woods.
Sense the crisp drafts of autumn,
That dismiss your breathe.

Wander a path,
Shuffling leaves as you go.
With all the traditional colors,
A beam and a glow.

Hide by the oak,
Concealed to the brook.
Hear it trickle through the rocks,
The cool water, fresh and pure.

Witness the doe and her fawn,
Statuesque, motionless
Once hopping nearby,
Refresh in the creek, not staying for long

The chatter,
You look up to the right,
A squirrel, bustling through the pine
Uncovers his hideaway stash of acorns and nuts.

Be cunning and sly,
For you may get lucky,
To spy a fox,
This nocturnal beggar, traversing its next meal

Anticipate the adventure,
Perhaps not far away,
When the weather cooperates,
On days off,
Take a walk through the woods.


The time of year,
When the harvest moon is a glow,
A ball of fire is the brush He uses,
To transcend the heavens.
Animated shades only a supreme being could create,
Hues saved for the Master,
To share with His children.

For those who truly admire and are in awe by His work,
Will forever grasp the magnificence,
Beyond what the eye can see,
Or what the flesh can feel.

Impossible to appreciate where creation ends,
And where paradise begins,
Too frequently we cage our dreams,
Omitting the real beauty before us.

This canvas,
Fashioned by a divine palate,
Expending far-reaching strokes,
Yields an all-embracing flair,
Not short of a miracle,
Nor the sense of divine intervention.

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