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Eric Cockrell
Poems by Eric Cockrell : 16 / 2802
A Child Is Born
a child, a child, a child is born
to a mother who lies near death;
no food, no home, no place to go,
smell the stink of fear on her breath.
you build and destroy, and build again,
pound your chests with arrogant pride.
litigate and over populate,
sell your vision while children die.
if there's a God He doesnt live
in your temples and your shrines.
but in the cry of the hungry child,
and the ones you've left behind.
a child, a child, a child is born....
Eric Cockrell
Submitted: Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Edited: Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Poems by Eric Cockrell : 16 / 2802
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Well done Eric, you really think of waste land!
A true reflection on the hypocrite of governments, who ever's they maybe.
The one thing that stuck with me from Christianity more than anything was that anyone you encounter could be Christ in disguise, and you should treat them as such. I think you're right...creation's spirit is in not discarding and neglecting people...they deserve better than that. Powerful, powerful poem and vividly described.
you are a very talented writer...keep it up.