Man In The Mirror Poem by Eric Cockrell

sometimes i laugh
at the man in the mirror,
the miles written in lines
carved in the stone of experience.
save the world?
hard to do when
you spend all your time
picking yourself up!
years working with my hands,
my back bent and determined.
now i walk with the pain,
well deserved and well earned.
passionate to madness,
been there and back.
now i'm happy with stillness,
when i can steal a moment.
a lover, a fool, a warrior,
a loser... a spiritual walker,
a heretic, a demon...
i paint pictures on dollar store canvases,
with borrowed brushes and dumpster paint.
striving to bring into focus,
the beauty of that which is common!
the mothers, the fathers, the sisters,
the brothers... the 50 hour weeks,
the Saturday night blow...
the simple, and the pride,
of the honest and giving.
the mistakes that make or break a man.
the man in the mirror,
needs no name or title...
remember him for caring,
that will be enough!