My Body, Or Yours? Poem by Eric Cockrell

is this my body,
or yours?
whose graven face,
whose broken fingers
numbly buttoning the shirt?
is this distance real?
this taste of ashes and pine...

whose sacrifice,
whose redemption?
what color the night?
the rusted creaking of dawn,
pulls nails from self-made coffins!
what we are,
or what we become...
even the monsters smell familiar!

if love is then a war,
who wins the final battle?
at what price?
and who names the refugees,
walking the dusty road of tribulation?
even darkness has its own chair,
so why am i
painting without a brush?