When We Believed Poem by Eric Cockrell
When We Believed
the surgeon's hand,
the painter's brush.
the carpenter's hammer,
the hungry touch.
gravity and motion,
moon driven waves.
bowls of rice,
the end of days.
turn back the clock,
shut the window and the door.
walk back down that path
we walked before.
before we lived,
before we died.
before we walked away,
before we lied.
to prayers and giving,
hearts on the sleeve.
to when we loved,
when we believed!
I like this! Love can make everything seem possible, but one day you wake up and the coffee has turned cold, then everything is illusional. When the going gets tough, the tough gets going.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/25/2025 9:23:43 PM # 1.0.0
If I understand the poem correctly, you touch here on a topic of tremendous importance. 'When we believed' We used to believe in many things, We saw some of these things were not true Many of us threw away all believes. When we beleived, life was different. I personally am quite positive about the future. Perhaps this period of less believing will, in the future, lead to a more pure belief in true spirituality rahter than believes in ghosts and lots of superstition, often manipulated by unscrupulous 'leaders'. This poem is really thought provoking. Thanks