For The Woman I Have Loved....
let it not be so
that each star that falls,
must be named...
nor each tree that is cut,
without conscious knowledge.
let us not try to confine the wind,
nor to define freedom in an unspoken sky.
let us not seek to erase the darkness,
nor to infringe on the language of whales.
let it not be ordained that we are gods,
when the words we speak are empty.
and most of all, let not love wear a face,
any face that is not yours.
if this be eternity i choose to sleep,
with the precious scent of your nearness!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Memory Of The Cold!
stirring the ashes
with loving hands,
kneeling down, cupping,
and gently blowing.
i'll set out a rose bush
beneath your bedroom window,
and water it in the dead of night.
the shadow that latches your door,
pulls the cover up around you.
sits and rocks in the peace
of perfect silence...
watching you sleep!
i am the wolf that curls
at the foot of your bed,
the hands of the clock,
stopping in reverence...
[...] Read more
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Meeting Place...
shall we go to the meeting place,
down the path by the willow?
where the last birds go to rest,
and prepare for their journey.
where the sound of the creek
is all that's heard,
except for crickets and chattering squirrels.
the occasional cry of the butterfly expiring,
and the pines weeping for lost lovers.
following the trail of the ants,
and the pawprints of the wolves,
we lie beneath nests left empty.
naked and close, not speaking a word...
we wait on moonlight,
and poems written by the darkness!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Change The World?
do you know what
will really change the world?
when we learn how to listen...
not just with our ears,
but with our minds,
with our hearts,
with eyes that have seen,
and known...
and so can see
our selves in others!
listen...
with compassion...
without condemnation,
or judgement.
with silence,
no need to correct,
or give advice.
with our hands,
open and willing to help.
with our feet,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Equally Holy....
there is no difference,
in the man painting the walls
of the chapel,
and the homeless man pissing
in the alley...
in the Madonna,
and the young woman
giving birth on the floor
of a welfare apartment.
in the Buddha,
and the child starving
to death in a third world country...
in the doctor saving lives,
and the addict on the street.
in the peacemaker,
and the soldier afraid on the battlefield...
in the leader, the priest, and the whore.
in black or white, and the illegal immigrant.
all are equally holy!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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My Other Hand...
the black man's hand,
the poor man's hand.
the Muslim hand, the Jewish hand...
the gay man's hand,
the working man's hand,
the ex-convict's hand,
the farmer's hand, the garbage man's hand...
the Christian's hand, the atheist's hand,
the father's hand, the soldier's hand,
the peacemaker's hand,
the healer's hand, the teacher's hand,
the prodigal's hand, even the murderer's hand...
the victim's hand, the broken hand,
the praying hand, the touching hand...
all, when extended,
feel like my other hand!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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No One
you treat the world
like you're burning trash!
drinking oil from
styrofoam cups...
the blood on your floors
cries out from stagnant pools.
you see no one,
you smell no one...
you cannot hear or feel
the cry of no one dying
in your fields, in your shops,
in your sterile offices...
your form of hatred
begins within your selves...
you trade freedom and dignity
in small shares over drinks....
[...] Read more
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Nothing Owned, Nothing Lost
i dont feel the need
to ever own again.
houses, cars, credit cards
mean nothing to me!
we ate well tonite,
the house is quiet
and the man in the mirror
is fading day by day.
we never own each other,
never even own our children.
all that is will pass
into memory.
and that is enough.
all that will remain
is the kind word,
the soft touch,
the moments spent listening,
the hand-up given without thinking...
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Truth About Jesus
what made Jesus
the force that changed
history forever?
was it His death on
the cross? or was it
His life, the way He lived?
He dared to live compassion
with human hands... knowing
the risk, He took it....
He knew that all lives
are connected... and lived
what He knew to be true....
'the kingdom of heaven
within you...'
His death merely an extension
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Body Of God!
forgive me, i erred,
i thought God contained
in the wind.... but twas
only one breath of infinity!
i thought i saw God
in the starving child's eyes,
but twas only one heartbeat
of compassion!
i thought i heard God
in the cries of the dying
on the battlefields of greed...
but twas human despair!
i thought i found God
down in the homeless shelter,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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