Still Tugs (At The Leash) Poem by Eric Cockrell

i rose from the grave,
and brushed the dirt from my eyes.
i shook the chill silence
from my bones,
and walked through the last door.
i stood on your porch
for the longest time not speaking,
watching the wind blow the curtains,
listening to the creaking of the boards.
we are no more than the last step,
no less than every mile.
your reports of my death
fall on deaf ears...
i can still taste the sweat of god,
can still feel the murmur and the quake.
and when i lie down,
i dont want to be alone!
you can fill the empty grave
with memories and cold tears,
this dog still tugs at the leash!