<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=387946" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>I Am... (Namaste, Number Two)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">i picked up the broken pieces<br>of glass when you threw her picture, <br>and closed your eyes<br>as you stared at the walls.<br>i walked with you to the mailbox, <br>day after day....<br>i am the letter<br>your daughter never wrote.<br>i helped you dig the hole<br>to bury that old dog, <br>and mouthed the words of the prayer<br>that no one heard.<br>i walked with you down the aisle, <br>the best day of your life.<br>i helped your shaking hands<br>sprinkle dirt on the casket, <br>forty years later.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i felt your excitement, <br>the first time you made love.<br>almost drunk with the gentleness, <br>and the closeness that takes.<br>when you were old and alone, <br>i picked up your Bible, <br>and read to you, <br>words you'd almost forgotten.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i am the drunkard, <br>the addict, and the whore.<br>i am the preacher, <br>the lawyer, and the businessman.<br>i am the boy, the girl, <br>the man and the woman.<br>i am your religion, <br>and something deeper and stronger.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i am the image you dreamed of yourself.<br>i am the body you walked in..<br>the hands you touched with! <br>i am you, <br>and need be nothing more, <br>and most of all...<br>nothing less! <br>namaste!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Eric+Cockrell">Eric Cockrell</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=387946" data-title="I Am... (Namaste, Number Two) de Eric Cockrell" data-description="i picked up the broken pieces of glass when you threw her picture, and closed your eyes as you stared at the walls. i walked with you to the mailbox, day after day.... i am the letter your daughter never wrote. i helped you dig the hole to bury ..."></div> </div> </div>

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