You Return Again
you return again,
or maybe just the wind,
softly knocking on the door....
or maybe it's a train,
on some distant track,
hurtling somewhere with purpose....
or maybe just winter,
blowing hard against autumn,
wrapping all that has been life...
in the silence of the snow....
or maybe it's tomorrow,
returning today to yesterday....
this moment of living to memory.
or maybe it's just my heart,
calling out to my soul....
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Already There!
what you gonna do
when they take away your house?
what you gonna do
when they take your job?
what you gonna do
when they take away your healthcare?
what you gonna do
when they take away your children's education?
what you gonna do
when they take away your rights?
what you gonna do
when they take away your freedoms?
what you gonna do
when they take away your thoughts?
what you gonna do
when they take away your hope?
you want to know, to understand,
why people are protesting in America...
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Will Return
i will return...
when the wars have ended.
when the hungry have been fed,
and no one is left homeless.
when the tears of man,
are but tears of joy.
when every word spoken,
be a bridge, a lantern, a hand!
when the seeds i have planted
are ready for harvest.
and the smallest twig
becomes the tree that gives shade.
when the fire is restored
from an old man's ashes.
and time begins again
with a man and a woman...
when all that lives
is spoken into existence...
when you let down your hair,
and open the door...
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Insurrection
insurrection...
or just the pot boiling over,
the plant breaking through the gound,
the leaf bursting from the bud,
the wind breaking down the door.
light breaking through the darkness,
the body breaking free of bonds.
the spirit breaking from the body,
the truth breaking from the silence.
hope breaking from despair,
caring breaking from the calloused....
the individual breaking from the crowd.
the many breaking from the few,
the man breaking from enslavement.
the pot boiling over...
be careful!
you'll burn your hand!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Right To Love!
she's in love
with another woman...
they've been in love
for years.... life companions,
they complete each other.....
they have the right to love!
a hard working young man,
he loves another young man.
he makes him feel alive!
working together for a dream,
they find home in each other...
they have the right to love!
the young white student,
works a job while studying
for his degree...
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Just Business
you say the moral implications
dont matter anymore;
it's all about the money,
it's 'just business'...
blood for oil, and
it doenst matter whose blood
- as long as it's not your own!
what happened to the sanctity
of human life...
if the skin color is different,
the language different,
the religion different...
do you sleep better at night?
'they're poor, they have nothing
to live for anyway...'
'just business'...
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Unconditionally Open
these hands,
that took yours
and walked away from all
we knew.
these hands,
that laid brick,
cut wood,
plowed gardens,
picked up trash
built fences for the dogs,
held the children
when they were small,
held your hands
at the hospital
stroked your body,
touching forbidden places
with gentleness and
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Who Cries Herself To Sleep...
the young pregnant girl
waiting tables in the greasy diner,
whose boyfriend left her two weeks ago...
whose mother told her she was going to hell,
whose father drank himself to death.
whose used to skip rope
and go to Sunday School...
who freckle faced picking flowers,
who stuck her bare feet in the creek.
whose trailer has no heat,
whose cell phone has no minutes.
whose old Gremlin smokes but still runs,
whose heart is broken tho her lip is strong....
who wants to name her little boy Abraham,
who cries herself to sleep!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Stargazer
the stargazer
wrapped up his eyes
in a small box
tied neatly
with a ribbon
and a bow....
and gave it
to the little boy,
lying afraid, and
sleepless....alone,
and crying in
an empty apartment....
the little boy stopped crying,
closed his eyes, went to sleep...
and dreamed....
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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What We Are.... (Freedom)
Thomas Jefferson said, 'every generation needs its own revolution'....
freedom is not passive, not set, not a past attainment.
it is the act of evolving, becoming more human.
it requires seeing the face, and knowing the heart.
it has to be the way we live... the way we give....
and the reason we breathe....
a constant joining, listening, and caring.
the responsibility of needs met, and shared.
the shout of the question, and the embrace of faith...
freedom must be who we are, what we are,
and what we believe...
or freedom dies!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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