Fifty Eight Years Poem by Eric Cockrell
Fifty Eight Years
fifty eight years,
step after step...
pathways of stone,
of water, of wind...
no footprints behind.
small fires on dark nights,
waves of stillness opening...
the eyes of the breathing surround.
touch! touch!
echoing against the roar.
words sealed on paper
for future fires!
when scars become gifts
left on strangers' doorsteps...
for there are no strangers,
soul unto soul.
step after step,
rain falling softly.
smoke from the chimney,
hangs like a prayer.
face to face,
lips touching lips,
a small bag of dreams
left under a child's pillow.
fifty eight years.
'when scars become gifts' ..................................... 'a small bag of dreams left under a child's pillow.' ................................... I think that these precious lines should be underlined.... The truth, they remarkable... ts.
A great poem, as we get older the years seem to get faster. A great write. May i invite you to read my new poem called, Evil Rising.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/27/2024 12:12:58 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Tsira is right, those lines are killer..additionally I like, 'small fires on dark nights.'. 'waves if stillness opening' 'words sealed on paper'..so many jewel-fires waiting to be discovered here. Plus, the journey described here is awe inspiring.