we who sit at the feet of angels
and drink alone, the bitter truth...
with no hand to hold against the night,
no kindred spirit, no flame of hunger.
we speak, there is no answer,
only the waiting that sweats & weeps.
the formless bound in a thousand faces
each yearning to be held, and named.
we who sit at the feet of angels...
and drink alone...
Eric Cockrell's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Mourning by Eric Cockrell )
- While crying, let me smile, gajanan mishra
- Butterfly's Flight, Steve Kittell
- Then and Now, Pradip Chattopadhyay
- Atomic Genius, Naveed Akram
- Grieving, Phil Soar
- Watering the plants, gajanan mishra
- Wait for, hasmukh amathalal
- Wings On Winter, Don Blumenthal
- Muse, Stefan Pryce
- Life and Me., silenced work
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