Morning Prayer
may my feet
follow my heart,
may the door to my heart
open both ways.
may my hands
always be open,
may my mouth
support my ears
by silence.
may my eyes
remain naked,
may my soul be connected.
may my thoughts,
words, and actions,
be the breath of compassion.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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No Train
brackish water dripping
from a rusted spicket
a broken wagon wheel
spinning in the sand
smoke rising from
a fire already dead
bells tinkling in the wind
on the porch of an
abandoned house
train tracks, no train!
words i have written
with a pen dipped in blood.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Forty Plus Years
forty plus years
of working day
and night...
and all i have
to show for it is...
the dust in my pockets,
holes in my jeans,
and a stack of bills
i cant pay...
no insurance,
no retirement,
no house on the hill....
just another victim
of the American Dream!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Into The Moon!
tis a boat that must be rowed,
with every ounce of being...
tis a commitment to caring,
in which the self is lost.
tis a prayer that makes god shudder,
and a storm that cant be stilled....
the very thing that makes one human,
and turns an acorn into the moon!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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That Which We Grieve For
we killed a man
who proclaimed
his innocence
to the end
to pay for another
man's life taken
justice?
or murder?
yet that which
we grieve for
cannot restore
a life
did not the God
that we profess
speak forgiveness?
and who will pay
[...] Read more
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Greatest Poverty...
the greatest poverty a man ever faces
is in the part of him that clings to, and
will not let go... the part of him that is
owned by fear....
we have much difficulty understanding
that we are not what we possess.... but
what we give...
and so we run from freedom!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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That Jesus' Baby
'you know...
they buried that
Jesus' baby,
you know...
the one they found
in the dumpster,
down in the church cemetary
neath an unmarked stone...
the only ones
who came to mourn,
were three crows,
and two mongrel dogs...
the last prayer,
the falling rain! '
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Freedom Of Expression
the last freedom they take from you
is freedom of expression...
for they fear the mind
they cannot confine!
in the shallow sickness
of their own concepts,
they label as right and wrong,
that which is simply life.
and would cut off the hand
that touches the wind!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Responsibility (For What Is Right)
i cannot get past the image
of a small boy kneeling
between the dead bodies
of his mother and father,
tears running down his face,
praying....
if we do not take responsibility
for what is wrong in this world...
we cannot claim responsibility
for what is right!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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To Still My Voice...
you want to still my voice...
so you put me in prison.
yet birds will circle where i'm held,
singing the songs of freedom!
you want to silence me forever,
so you kill this body.
yet the flowers on my grave,
and the very dirt,
will sing of justice and equality!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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