I Was Not Born To Follow! Poem by Eric Cockrell

i am the match
...for the fire not lit,
......the cup that holds,

..no water!
...the wheel that turns
....while standing still,

the prayer lost in the mail.
..the leaf that clings
.....to the barelimbed tree,

the fallen tree where small things live.
....the one who digs
.......the unmarked graves,

who cleans the stalls by moonlight.
....the last cross
......on that faraway hill,

the one who pulls
.....the blanket o'er the body....

i am the song,
.....and the gentle hand,

i was not born to follow!