i am the soldier, <br />crying in his helmet. <br />i am the gas pump, <br />guarded by guns. <br />i am the foreclosed house, <br />weeping and vacant. <br />i am the oil rig, <br />convicted of murder. <br />i am the big truck, <br />parked in disgust. <br />i am the nursing home, <br />with grave like beds. <br />i am the field, <br />unplowed and untended. <br />i am the bowl, <br />filled with empty. <br />i am the boots, <br />left by the door. <br />i am the ache, <br />the want and the need. <br />i am the hand, <br />reaching for your breast. <br />i am the paper, the pen, <br />the letter never written. <br />i am the empty bed, <br />beneath the willow tree. <br />i am the darkness, <br />that comes and devours. <br />the chill of distance, <br />the tears of an angry god!<br /><br />Eric Cockrell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-am-disgust/
