Always There!

we unlearn faith, wonder, awe,
and unconditional love as we
grow up... we are taught to turn
away.
it takes most of us the rest of
our lives to find these qualities
again...
but as a friend reminded me, they
were always there!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Coffee Pot

coffee pot, , ,
old, worn, stained
by service...

faithful,
ready to give
warmth and needed...

sharpness, clarity.....
we are no more,
and often less....

on our best days,
in our best worn jeans,
boots laced and ready.....

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Thoughts-6

dignity begins with taking responsibility...
freedom begins with respect!
equality is the recognition of sameness.
truth is what's left in the mirror
after everyone else leaves...

and poverty is the lash of corporate America!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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If I Lay Down...

if i lay down and close my eyes...
will the night linger,
will it touch my innermost longings,
and leave me breathless?
i mourned for closeness,
and now i am drunk,
staggering with the intimacy
of each and every tiny breath!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Bullets

if all human beings are created in God's image....
and all, as i think, are the bodies of God's dreams....
then the ones we're dropping the bombs on,
the ones hungry, sick, and homeless,
the ones we hate out of fear....

are...

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Animal Rights

animal rights...
they're people too!

often more so than we are,
with a deeper reverence
...........for life,

and a deeper understanding
...of the sacredness
...........of the mundane!

give them back
...their rights to life!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Hands Made Of Dust

butterfly....
flash for an instant,
then gone forever,

leaving only the echoes
of your small fragile wings
riding the wind....

eternity, an instant,
nothing else needed,
holding starlight

in the palms
of hands made of dust!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Strangers

suddenly brushing against you,
after years and lifetimes...
i realized we are strangers,
drawn by an intimate flame.
your soul smells like my socks,
and yet my voice falls empty...
unnamed raindrops,
clinging to unspoken grass!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Childlike Hands

your head upturned,
like a baby bird...

sunlight in the rain,
turning colors o'er
the prism mountains...

hungry for life,
to fill the empty
that you cannot name...

naked, unashamed,
you wipe the wrinkles
with childlike hands!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Are We?

the body hanging on the cross,
was bread, medicine, and human...
ears alive, eyes seeing, heart beating,
till the end.
hands open, feet walking,
till driven by nails...
of such is true religion!

are we then any of these things?

poem by Eric Cockrell
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