poetry does not pay the rent... <br />does not buy cars or houses, <br />does not sell stocks. <br />does not wear suits and ties, <br />does not barter, is not profitable, <br />cannot be bought or sold. <br /> <br />but poetry opens forbidden doors, <br />builds bridges in the darkness... <br />embraces the soul left alone. <br />pours balm on open wounds, <br />brings a mirror and the cost. <br /> <br />poetry asks questions that the soul whispers, <br />knows well the language of trees and rivers. <br />dances naked in the moonlight. <br />prays prayers we're afraid of... <br /> <br />poetry disarms the violent. <br />kisses, touches, makes love. <br />burns, burns, and burns.... <br />feeds the hungry and heals the sick. <br /> <br />poetry sees beneath the skin, <br />takes off the cloak of religion, <br />and unleashes the spiritual. <br />breaks the glass, and unlocks chains. <br /> <br />poetry plows new ground, <br />and names each sacred moment. <br />listens, listens, and listens, <br />and extends a bare open hand!<br /><br />Eric Cockrell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poetry-bare-open-hand/
