Once I Was a Giant

She asks: “Am I getting taller?”Giant

She is my daughter.

A woman. Full grown.

She is not getting taller.

 

I look down at her

As we hug goodbye.

Not so far down now.

Closer eye to eye than we once were.

 

“No,” I say. “I am getting smaller.”

She has noticed that

I am not what I once was.

The years have whittled me down by inches.

 

Once I was a giant.

Or so I imagined.

But she has found me out.

Seen it with her own eyes.

I am a man.

Merely.

Diminished.

Home

Home…

Is this home?

A slice of emerald

An island child, rocked

on gently rising sea.

Settling again

on the breast of the deep.

A different shore.

Until we meet

We agree to be alone.

You drift away

Carried by wind and wave-song

And I sit, still and silent

Unhurried and thought-filled.

 

 

We drink aloneness

 

Until it has emptied us

Until we find each other

Exhausted by solitude

Aching quietly for the touch of hands

And we are together … full.