The Moon To Weep Poem by Eric Cockrell

be it the petal of the flower...
or the edge of the blade.
love demands all,
and takes no prisoners.
be it the tongue,
or the pounding heart...
we leave no trace,
when the wave is gone!

whose history etched in silence?
choirs mourn without sound.
be it shadows or angels,
or demons set free...
they call it the last war,
will there be survivors?
who hears the oak tree fall,
in the deserted woods?

letters written by breasts,
whose milk gone bitter.
the soft light of the lamp,
shudders and caws.
small things bury strangers,
but thunder buries mountains.
and the scar on the sky,
causes the moon to weep!