Antonella Gabureanu | Little Giant

Three dormant giants aligned in stone,
a fairy flew above their heads,
traces of ephemeral dust sprinkled below.
A little giant awoke with a sneeze, searching his humble abode after years of sleep.
“Where are my parents? Where is my home?”

He looked around, noticing where his parents lie, two abreast
trying to wake them, he cried and cried.
Realising his precious time
before he’d turn to stone again that night.

The little giant foraged grassy lands, searching for miraculous curiosities under his eyes
No birds?
No deer?
No people?

How odd, he thought.
Maybe a flood washed over the villages, maybe there is nothing left.

Then, a naked tree stared from afar,
he approached until they were leaf to eye.
With a svelte arm, the tree beckoned forth,
and the giant took it out of the soil in his grasp.

“Ow!” the tree yelped, a mere ring to the giant’s ears
and it pricked the giant’s finger in return.
“Why must you hurt me?” the giant asked.
“I have nothing left,”
the tree sulked.
“Do you fear me? I fear too tree. I don’t understand why I am alone.
My parents turned to stone,
I have no home,
why am I here?”

Then the giant realised
There are many things I do not understand.
No matter how big and strong I am
I’m part of an unreadable, vast expansion.

“I will take you in my hand, as a souvenir, and plant a seed.”
He caressed the tree, who was now content.
“Then there shall be two trees, in my humble garden. You will have a friend.”

And so, the little giant and the tree traversed ridges and valleys,
until reaching a lone hill,
where he dug a hole in the earth, near a windmill
and sat in its vacant cocoon.

And the giant began to laugh and laugh,
cry and cry
for he realised that his hurt is worth less than a grain in time.
Centuries fly by,
civilisations built by brick eventually collapse.
Time passes and nobody really knows
the frame of the universe
at least there is something left of us
during our existential search

So the giant slept
for a long time.
His bones slowly came to surface,
his robustious form now meagre
coalesced with the soil.
Later, enshrouded by grass
where a mighty oak tree now stands.