Eric Cockrell

The Simple... - Poem by Eric Cockrell

follow that star...
to forlorn manger bare
'neath skies of poverty's making...

the simple, the common,
the calloused hands,
the baby's cry in cold night's grasp....

the light so few could see...
no temple, no righteous robes,
only a carpenter and wife...

no kings, no prophets,
no blaze of fury....
a child born in stillness,

that stillness formed....
abused, misunderstood,
his memory used and twisted

into something else and less....
never knowing, never seeing,
the simple truth....

the hands, fully human,
that dared to touch...
changing the darkness

with compassion's forms...
as if a leaf turning,
and no one heard!

therein lies the beauty,
and the stillness!

Listen to this poem:

Comments about The Simple... by Eric Cockrell

  • (12/20/2011 11:01:00 AM)

    Like it. The truth always gets twisted. A great poem. (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
Read all 1 comments »

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 20, 2011

[Report Error]