Headstones.... Poem by Eric Cockrell

i am the headstones without inscriptions,
i am old boots that dont have a face.
i am the grey beard, and the morning pains,
and conversations with parking meters.
i am the leaf that waited for a thousand years,
(or so it seemed, if not longer) ...
now turning in the furious rage of passion,
and tomorrow i will fall!
i am a snowflake on the lips of time,
the wheel steady in the worst of storms.
i am the child that died at three years of age,
that never learned to read or write.
i am first love, and the first kiss.
the first hunt by grandpa's side.
i am the salmon that swam upstream,
to sacrifice its soul for your pleasure.
i am the memory of bears and buffalo.
i am the kerosene shacks of poverty.
i am the naked corpse of love,
the nail bent in the board of the bridge.
i am the last hawk in the last sky,
the last orgasm of the trembling hand.
i am the gun unloaded and laid aside,
the incredible roar of peace.
i am the mother and child, refugees of war,
i am the bodies stacked in the nameless ditch.
i am the sound god makes choked by tears,
and the crayon in the hand of the infidel child.
i am the naked body of the ecstatic dance,
i am the smell and taste of passion.
i am the way the air feels,
when the bird flaps its wings.
i am the name that cant be spoken!