Poetry.... (Bare Open Hand) Poem by Eric Cockrell

poetry does not pay the rent...
does not buy cars or houses,
does not sell stocks.
does not wear suits and ties,
does not barter, is not profitable,
cannot be bought or sold.

but poetry opens forbidden doors,
builds bridges in the darkness...
embraces the soul left alone.
pours balm on open wounds,
brings a mirror and the cost.

poetry asks questions that the soul whispers,
knows well the language of trees and rivers.
dances naked in the moonlight.
prays prayers we're afraid of...

poetry disarms the violent.
kisses, touches, makes love.
burns, burns, and burns....
feeds the hungry and heals the sick.

poetry sees beneath the skin,
takes off the cloak of religion,
and unleashes the spiritual.
breaks the glass, and unlocks chains.

poetry plows new ground,
and names each sacred moment.
listens, listens, and listens,
and extends a bare open hand!