Whose Footsteps Will Haunt Your Sleep? Poem by Eric Cockrell

it's easy to bury the pen,
to break the glass vase
that held the light.
will you then burn the book,
and wipe your shoes at the door?
is it easy to forget the address?
some graves are best unmarked you say...
let the preacher say a few words.
and it's back to home and the dinner dishes,
things that must be done.
what's too painful we walk away from,
and name our victories by our needs.
but on that day when spring arrives,
will you recognize a bud on the limb?
will the sound of wings bring back memories?
will you fall to your knees and weep?
and whose face will you see when
you cry out to god?
whose footsteps will haunt your sleep?