The Need To Be Named...
how do i know to speak of love?
she has taken my body,
and made it a chair.
she broke my legs,
and threw them into the fire,
started by sparks from my own eyes.
she took my soul and named it a wind,
that frightens the timid,
and fills the roar of the lion.
she took my feet,
and made them chapters...
she formed my hands into valleys,
and flooded them with my heart's desires...
she took my breath,
and stirred darkness with the magic
of the simple and the touched....
she took my identity,
and made me nameless,
and beyond the need to be named!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Added by Poetry Lover
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