Giant Steps

I found him curled up there in the imprinted heel of a giant’s step. He was sleeping on his side, cradling a blanket the color of lima beans and squeezed in tight white pajamas. I awoke him with a shout, I told him to climb out, but he was still rubbing his eyes when he said:

            “I don’t wanna leave. It’s safe here.”

            I asked him exactly what was so safe about sleeping in the step of a colossus. He explained that it was unlikely that someone would step over a giant’s step. In fact, it was safer than walking on the grassy meadow surrounding.

            “Only children jump in the footprints of giants,” he explained, his voice drowsy.

            Just then, the ground shook and I looked up behind the trail of steps. I saw a giant bounding across the field, leaving his prints in the steps already stepped. So, I reached into that step and yanked the boy out. As the giant thundered by, the boy cast me a confused look.

            “You’d better watch out,” I told him, my hand lifting him by the warm nape of his pajamas. “There are more children around here than you think.”

IT WAS that callousness, without
cause, without
dreams
nor hope
nor a silver-lined cloud.

Do you understand?

You are no longer alone. In fact, all around you,

at this very moment,

there are people waiting for you to answer their call.

How foolish.
That you would expect the moon and the stars to change and form at your very whim,

That you would expect the ocean to curl and bow at the sight of your crown,

You are nothing but a

fake king.