We Are....

we are the children
of the tears God wept.
we are the names and the faces
of the spirits that roam the night.
we are the leaves that fell
with autumnal passion...
we crumbled back into the dirt,
and returned to our mother.

we are the oaks cut
to build the house.
we are the saws, the hammers,
and the nails.
we are the water,
and we are the well.
we are the cup and the basin,
we are the mirror long cracked.

we are the fire,
and the bodies huddled.
we are the long blackness
of the unnamed night.
we are the book,
and the living words,
the preacher closing the casket,
the shovel, and the dirt.

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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