Small Glimpses Of Holiness Poem by Eric Cockrell

i can remember being a kid,
and going to church on Sunday....
can remember the way the sunlight
danced through the stained glass
windows, the smell of the old
hymnals, the way the hard bench
hurt my back....
can remember singing the old hymns...
(sometimes they come to me
in my sleep....)

but i cant remember any particular sermon!

it's funny what we equate with God,
and holiness... and what we dont!

just as easy i can remember being alone
in the woods, watching sunlight pour
through the pines, listening to the gurgling
of the creek.... and the way the earth felt
beneath my bare feet.....

or the first time i ever made love
to a girl... in the front seat of an
old Rambler.... moonlight sifting through
the trees... and the barking of a dog.

or sleeping in a cave, on the run, and the
damp darkness like a womb enveloping
me... with only the sound of a nearby
waterfall piercing the stillness....

or standing by my mother's grave...
watching a part of myself go back
to the dust...

or the sound of my children's voices
when they just needed assurance....

small glimpses of holiness drifting
through an old man's mind... on the way
back home.