These Are (My Children)
standing in line at the mission,
they're ladeling bowls of steaming soup.
the winter wind whips down
between the buildings like a knife...
pulling tattered coats tight hunching.
and i can hear Shantideva whisper,
his hand on the ladel...
his body the meat of the soup,
his blood the broth...
'these are my children! '....
they walk in long staggered lines,
refugees from the bombing...
hungry scared children clinging,
afarid to lose sight of...
what's left of their families.
nothing behind, and nowhere to go,
not on any side...
and i can hear Jesus whisper,
His life the torch that lights the way,
His body the shelter against the night,
His blood the water, His hands stir the rice...
'these are My children! '....
the addict shivers, strung out and desperate...
the homeless family huddles in the car.
the young prisoner sleepless with the fear,
the old man going hungry feeds his bedridden wife...
the jobless young father begs to pick up trash...
and i know beyond all doubt,
my body, my soul, my spirit...
the wind that hears their cry.
'for these are my children! '...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
I Dont Even Know Their Names!
his spirit left his body,
and walked through the hells.
a firm voice spoke:
'keep your eyes open,
look, and see! '
he saw dark skinned children,
their bodies frail and thin,
their features carved with hunger.
he saw women and children,
running from the bombs,
young men gunned down,
in the streets.
he saw the homeless family,
sleeping in a beaten old car,
hoping no one would come
to make them move.
he saw the young addict shaking,
the young woman helpless,
her baby crying in the bare apartment.
he saw the young man sent to prison,
trying to hide his fear,
a fear so strong they
could smell it on him!
he saw the woman who'd been beaten,
the man jobless and angry.
he saw millions of Native Americans,
slaughtered, and left for the crows.
he saw the old couple hungry,
in their apartment with no lights,
and no heat in the dead of winter...
'i cant take it any more,
what has this got to do with me?
i dont even know their names! '
'their names are anybody, and everybody...
they are why you must return.
they are your children, your
brothers and sisters, your father
and your mother...
they are your responsibility!
you must return to finish the work! '
poem by Eric Cockrell
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All The Same!
i am the illegal immigrant,
picking your fruit.
while my children are hungry,
and my wife scrubs your floors.
the young black man in your prison,
the anger of the poor.
i am the books,
you forbid us to read.
i am the Vietnamese family,
whose children speak english.
the young Sioux poet,
whose words sound like tears.
i am the white man's reservation,
and the white man's god....
the sound of the gas pump,
the feet of soldiers marching to death.
i am the grandson of the miner,
who never came out.
the body of the union organizer,
buried beneath rubble.
i am the picket line,
the cold floor of the cell.
i am the old woman who died,
alone in her nursing home bed.
the sound of the church bells,
on midnight's empty streets.
i am the needle and the crack pipe,
the sound of the window breaking.
i am the whistle of the train,
so near and so far.
i am the child adopted,
by two women in love.
i am the mission, the soup line,
and the shelter....
the body in the alley,
and no one cares.
i am the song of America,
i am the wind of freedom.
i am the torch of justice,
the bridge that has no name.
i am the god of many colors,
and all the same!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Bowl and The Spoon
i hear the sound of humanity's voices,
the sound of suffering and need.
i smell the fear, and i feel the anger,
of those left alone, the victims of greed.
i feel the hate of the guns and the bombing,
the terror of women and children.
i cry the tears and shed blood with them,
i hear the prayers of the dead for the living.
i feel the hunger of children left starving,
i am the anger of the unemployed in line.
i breathe the despair of those left homeless,
i am the hope of those looking for a sign.
i am the body that somehow god needed,
i am the ears the lonely pray for.
i am the eyes that see through the heart,
the prisoner walking through the last door.
i hear the sound of the baby crying,
i feel the mother walking across the room.
i am the father praying for work,
i am the bowl and i am the spoon.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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O My Soul...
where have you gone,
o my soul...
where have you gone?
are you lost in the tears
of a thousand faces
blackened by hunger?
in the cries of the dying?
of the homeless?
in the defiant feet
of those standing in line?
the unemployment line?
the soup line?
the line just outside
the prison walls?
in the lover left desperate,
who takes his own life?
in the students beaten,
who stood up for freedom?
in the young man hated,
for the color of his skin?
in the young woman sold
on the lonesome street corner?
in the windowless offices
where lives and deaths are decided?
in the hole behind the gun,
eyes hard as steel?
in the bare apartment,
where the children are cold and hungry?
on the corner, 'neath the bridge,
in the back of the car?
where have you gone,
o my soul...
where have you gone?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Children In America!
one out of three
children in America,
living in poverty?
what happened
to the land of promise?
children hungry,
children homeless,
children that wont
get a good education!
children, broken families,
children without future.
children without love....
turn to hate!
build your cities,
build your banks,
build your kingdoms
drunk on oil and blood!
your children, dying....
who digs their graves?
who closes their eyes?
who prays for their souls?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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There Are No Children Here
The untrained eye
Walks down the street
And sees children
But they're not children
There are no children here
Adults look back
With hungry eyes
And someone thinks
''They're just children
With a mother and a father
Never any fear''
And they kid themselves
As there are no mothers
No fathers
Because there are no children here
Terror doesn't care
As they cry over there
It lets someone stare
Through the sight of a gun
Seeing everyone
And just for fun
Shoot them
People rush around crying
''But they were just children!
They were just children! ''
A man with a gun
Turns and runs
But as he does they hear
''They aren't children''
And
''They weren't children''
And
''You need to know:
There are no children here''
No one makes a sound
Listening to the truth he's found
And they know:
It's our fault
We didn't save them
We could have saved them
If we cared
There would be children here
poem by Violet Llewellyn
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The Children
Be not afraid at all, be not afraid to know
And ride the wings of change, to a better time
Come take the hand of hope, and learn the ways of man
For youre the path that leads to the other side
The skin upon our faces has melt the ice of ages
Now our destiny is yours
Chorus:
Children lift up your eyes to the heavens
Send your vision out beyond
Children take up the torch and we will follow
Youre the light of the world
Hear echoes in the dark from voices of the heart
You teach the song of life we take for granted
Weve given you the key, so youll unlock the door
Were looking through your eyes to another day
You bring a change of season, something to believe in
Now our destiny is yours
Children lift up your eyes to the heavens
Send your vision out beyond
Children take up the torch and we will follow
Bring some light into this world
Be not afraid at all, be not afraid to show
Your voices will be heard, wish I learned
We shelter from the storm, we cant make it on our own
So lift our spirit to the other side
Children lead us away from the sorrow
Youre the arrows from the bow
Another kingdom awaits your arrival
Giving freedom to the soul
Let the children follow, let the children see
All the children walk to the other side
Let the children follow, let the children see
All the children walk to the other side
Let the children follow, let the children see
All the children walk to the other side
Let the children follow, let the children see
All the children walk to the other side
Let the children follow, let the children see
song performed by by Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We're All God's Children
Album: Peace In The Valley
Here comes a Baptist, here comes a Jew
There goes a Mormon and a Muslim too
I see a Buddist and a Hindu
I see a Catholic and I see you
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
You like the day, and I like the night
He's into country and he's isn't quit
There's folks on the left and the far right
But that doesn't mean that we have to fight
We're all god's children
All god's children
Yeah, We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
White folks, yellow folks, black and tan
On the same planet in the same plan
A feminist woman and a he man
We're all playin' the magic hand
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
Oh, We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
We're all god's children
All god's children
Yeah, We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
We're all god's children
All god's children
We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
Yeah, We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
We're all black and white
We're all precious in his sight
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
Why can't we all be
One big happy family...
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Are Not Alone
tired, so tired...
She laid Her hand
on my shoulder,
and whispered:
'can you not see
the sky, the clouds,
the wind walking
through the treetops,
sunlight dancing on
raindrops clinging to
the long grasses....
can you not hear
the howl of the wolf,
the cry of a new baby,
the moan of the wind....
be still, and know
that God is with you! '
but i could not
see or hear above the
clamor and the roar,
the voices of the starving,
of the homeless,
of women beaten and used,
of children without families,
of families killed by the bombs,
of the prisoner wrongly executed,
of the poor and oppressed.....
She whispered again:
'look closely, can you not
see My face in each of these?
be still, and know
that I am with you! '
i stood up and smiled,
knowing we are not alone!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Voice On The Wind
I
She walks with the wind on the windy height
When the rocks are loud and the waves are white,
And all night long she calls through the night,
'O my children, come home!'
Her bleak gown, torn as a tattered cloud,
Tosses around her like a shroud,
While over the deep her voice rings loud,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
II
Who is she who wanders alone,
When the wind drives sheer and the rain is blown?
Who walks all night and makes her moan,
'O my children, come home!'
Whose face is raised to the blinding gale;
Whose hair blows black and whose eyes are pale,
While over the world goes by her wail,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
III
She walks with the wind in the windy wood;
The dark rain drips from her hair and hood,
And her cry sobs by, like a ghost pursued,
'O my children, come home!'
Where the trees loom gaunt and the rocks stretch drear,
The owl and the fox crouch back with fear,
As wild through the wood her voice they hear,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
IV
Who is she who shudders by
When the boughs blow bare and the dead leaves fly?
Who walks all night with her wailing cry,
'O my children, come home!'
Who, strange of look, and wild of tongue,
With wan feet wounded and hands wild-wrung,
Sweeps on and on with her cry, far-flung,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
V
'Tis the Spirit of Autumn, no man sees,
The mother of Death and of Mysteries,
Who cries on the wind all night to these,
'O my children, come home!'
The Spirit of Autumn, pierced with pain,
Calling her children home again,
Death and Dreams, through ruin and rain,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Her Voice
i believe there is a God
i can hear her voice
in the tears of the homeless
of the hungry, of orphaned children
of the young woman lying on the
kitchen floor bleeding
in the hollow ache of the young
man who just killed a family
with his M-16
in the stink of helpless
on the young boy raped
in the prison cell
in the vomiting anger
of the man who caught his wife
cheating, and shot her
in the prayers of the mother
whose son joined a gang,
and walked away from her dreams
in the cry of the baby
left in the alley
behind the church
that refused to help
his mother
in the pen on the desk
of the man at the bank
who just foreclosed
on another family
i can hear her voice
and feel her hurt!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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How Many Children? (Holiness)
how many children
are hungry this morning?
how many children
without a home?
how many children
with only one parent?
how many children
.....with none?
how many children
faced with no future?
how many children
thrown to the side?
how many children....
and how many know?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Question The General
Yes it’s true, at this time
I am a young man but only my body
For I am much older in the mind
And too my body I can say good bye
I ask many question with no reply
Except, you are just a fool
Im not saying im a genius, but
You ignore more as I have the balls to ask you
How can you justify you actions
A war torn country is no threat to our way of life
Our way of life war war war and the neglecting of the poor
Childs break and heart are impure
But come too think of it this is the plan
And behind close doors you agree
Broken children are soldiers for future wars
War? Ave you been? Have your children seen
The blood stained slates where children ahd been
Before the bombs dropped they had dreams
Father, mothers and family,
But what a stumbling it must be, for
All you feel is your need for greed
War is ugly its not clean I can say this for it I have seen
But the images a blurred as your shining rolls royce’s gleam
Blinds your eyes for you only see what it has given thee
poem by Daniel Richards
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Song: The Cries of Today’s Children
I hear the cries of children,
Of children of the world; I Singer
The unwanted and unlucky,
The orphans and of streets!
I hear the cries of children,
Of children who want love;
The illiterate, sick, handicapped; II Singer
Poor, without any sheets!
I hear the cries of children,
Of children that must work; I Singer
To earn while young for family,
Have no place, time to play!
I hear the cries of children,
Of children war-ravaged;
Who know not what is joy in life, II Singer
Living in squalor, strife!
Let’s make this world for children,
A better place to live; I&II Singers together
With encouragement, dignity, * 2 times
And all love, we can give.
(
poem by John Celes
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His Body And Blood
I thank God for His grace and love, and for Christ’s Body and Blood,
His Body that was God’s Sacrifice, Jesus’ Body that paid sin’s price,
For Christ’s Blood, that was spilled, as The Father above, had willed,
For our Lord’s death at Calvary, so that believers could live Eternally.
It is through the very Blood of Christ, that sinners can have New Life,
From the Body, prepared for Him, redeeming souls from all their sin,
For The Lord had sent His Only Son, to be Redemption for everyone,
And all we must do is to believe, and God’s Salvation we will receive.
Today an empty grave now shows, though He died, Christ has arose,
The same power will be given to us, who, have come to Christ Jesus,
Though we are still on the earth, we receive God’s Spirit by New Birth,
Promised by our Lord to all men, when in Christ, they are Born Again.
Born of God, by The Spirit above, when we’re cleansed by His Blood,
Forgiven of all our sin and shame, all through the Power of His Name,
We are now the children of God, to walk anew upon the earth we trod,
To no longer be a part of the night, but now, to be The Savior’s Light.
This, all because God loved us first, even, when we were at our worst,
And His love was for all sinners lost, so our Lord employed the cross,
Crucifying Christ the Spotless Lamb, to pay sin’s price for every man,
This is His New Covenant of Blood, provided to us all by God’s Love.
Blame It On God
i hear the clamor,
i feel the roar.
waves pounding against the rocks,
bare feet walking the tiny cell.
the lies we've told
much less than the lies we've become.
blame it on god,
and kill the insurrection.
for every bite we take,
another does without.
for every turn of the page,
another grave is dug.
we pray to war,
afraid to sleep by ourselves.
and borrow from the darkness,
to silence the dawn.
even the children of hate,
cry, shit, and need.
we throw rocks at the dogs,
smoke churning from the stack.
with blood on our lips,
we recite the faceless chant.
walk away from the fires,
cold and unaffected.
god shakes the lice from her head,
covering bodies with ashes and dirt.
rocks the orphan in stillness,
feeds the begger from her breasts.
cleans the urine and pus,
from the old woman dying.
holds the shaking addict,
hears the murderer's prayer.
fills the bowls of the hungry,
covers the homeless with blankets.
sits all night in the cell
of the falsely condemned.
walks like moonlight
through the barelimbed trees,
to stand outside your window...
or could it be just the wind?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Posting Pictures
i'm going to quit writing poetry,
and start taking pictures...
pictures of the homeless,
the jobless, the hungry,
the war victims, drug victims,
crime victims, victims of oppressive
regimes, beaten, imprisoned, threatened...
starting right here!
the elderly left to die in want,
those left to live on the street,
families sleeping in cars,
parents burying their children...
smoke stacks smoking,
nuclear disasters, oil spills,
mountains being mined,
timber being cut...
lonely people walking alone!
small children crying...
lovers left in the cold...
empty churches full of people.
i'm going to post these pictures in color
for all the world to see,
post them in dead silence...
maybe then someone will hear,
hear, and offer a hand!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Children Of The Land
Written by james young
Lead vocals by james young
Children of the land
Dont wear a frown upon your face
Come on and join your hands
Were all a part of the human race
The music is here
To let you leave your fears behind
Come on along dont do me wrong
Lets see what you might find
Children of the land
Children of the land
Dont misunderstand
Were all children of the land
Dont trust anyone else
To run your life and set your goals
Youve gotta be able to live with yourself
When you are getting old
Others are getting blamed
For messing your life around
Its your own fault if you complain
For letting it get you down
Children of the land
Children of the land
Dont misunderstand
Were all children of the land
Children - come on children now
Children - yeah
Children - I said children yeah
Children - come on children now
Children - of the land
Children - of the land
Children - I said of the land
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If There's A God In Heaven (What's He Waiting For?)
Torn from their families
Mothers go hungry
To feed their children
But children go hungry
There's so many big men
They're out making millions
When poverty's profits
Just blame the childrenIf there's a God in heaven
What's he waiting for
If He can't hear the children
Then he must see the war
But it seems to me
That he leads his lambs
To the slaughter house
And not the promised landDying for causes
They don't understand
We've been taking their futures
Right out of their hands
They need the handouts
To hold back the tears
There's so many crying
But so few that hearIf there's a God in heaven
Well, what's he waiting forIf there's a God in heaven
What's he waiting for
poem by Mthokozisi Ntokozo Maphumulo
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A Word from The I Am
Children I beseech thee, come unto me
I have come to bring greater things upon you
My Son has come for you to follow through
The blood of My Son is among you
Come children Come
For I Am the I Am
For this is the last of the last days
For I speak boldly in a strong way
Come children, and seek My face
Eternal life is what I have given you all
Come children Come
For I Am the I Am
I have sent My Son Jesus to die for you
I ask you church to bring souls to Him
I am by faith, the blind cannot see
Tell the lost about Jesus and they'll be set free
Come children Come
For I Am the I Am
For I speak unto you that I am your Father
For I love you children that I gave My only Begotten Son
Bring Me the unsaved, for you know who I am
For this is the last of the last days
Come children Come
For I Am the I Am
This I give to you in peace
You shall not fear for I am near
For I am your divine vine and you are my branches
Pray, and blessings will pour out among you
Come children Come
For I Am the I Am
by Debra Stewart, August 2009
poem by Debra Stewart
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