Tis Breath, Then.... (Part Three) Poem by Eric Cockrell

tis breath, then...
that frees both image and form.
that taking hands touches.
that shaping lips kisses.
that barks, howls, groans, and chirps...
that is the lift beneath wings.
that is both scent and journey.
that is the language between us.
defining one inside the other...
tis breath, then....

(that being fire, becomes fire.
that being human, becomes human.
that leaving body, becomes spirit.
that being lonely, takes a body.
that naming god, does not know.
that does not know, but understands.
that being filled, opens and gives.
that giving, somehow remains.
that having left a mark,
leaves no footprints...)

tis breath, then...
breaking down walls imagined.
cracking egos' fragile shells.
breaking down tribe becoming family.
breaking down difference becoming sameness.
breaking the image of god, finding presence.
that walking the smoking ruins of civilization,
births flowers from ashes!
that screaming in childbirth,
puts eyes in the darkness.
tis breath, then...
yawning with creation's dawning,
as if it 'is'!

tis breath, then....