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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=387818" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Headstones....</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=387818" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">i am the headstones without inscriptions, <br>i am old boots that dont have a face.<br>i am the grey beard, and the morning pains, <br>and conversations with parking meters.<br>i am the leaf that waited for a thousand years, <br>(or so it seemed, if not longer) ...<br>now turning in the furious rage of passion, <br>and tomorrow i will fall! <br>i am a snowflake on the lips of time, <br>the wheel steady in the worst of storms.<br>i am the child that died at three years of age, <br>that never learned to read or write.<br>i am first love, and the first kiss.<br>the first hunt by grandpa's side.<br>i am the salmon that swam upstream, <br>to sacrifice its soul for your pleasure.<br>i am the memory of bears and buffalo.<br>i am the kerosene shacks of poverty.<br>i am the naked corpse of love, <br>the nail bent in the board of the bridge.<br>i am the last hawk in the last sky, <br>the last orgasm of the trembling hand.<br>i am the gun unloaded and laid aside, <br>the incredible roar of peace.<br>i am the mother and child, refugees of war, <br>i am the bodies stacked in the nameless ditch.<br>i am the sound god makes choked by tears, <br>and the crayon in the hand of the infidel child.<br>i am the naked body of the ecstatic dance, <br>i am the smell and taste of passion.<br>i am the way the air feels, <br>when the bird flaps its wings.<br>i am the name that cant be spoken!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Eric+Cockrell">Eric Cockrell</a></strong></div>