Broken Cup Poem by Eric Cockrell
Broken Cup
every living being wants
to hold and be held...
even the tree embraces the sky,
drops its leaves, as its sap
runs warm...
do you hate me so much?
no, that would take passion.
and to you i'm nothing
but a cemetary, a headstone,...
a vagrant crow...
a yellowed page in a book
no one takes off the shelf.
moth balls and insulin,
a broken cup on the floor.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/28/2026 2:37:03 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
Wow, this has strong words but gentle emotions. I think we are all cracked; some have deep cracks and can never hold love again; others only shallow cracks they manage to hide one way or another and you only see it when the lights are low.