Cirvant

I have sat with giants, who stood smaller than me…

And they tell me stories of what seems like ancient times

Of Battles and survivals that hold horror my poetry would fail to convey

I sat with giants and listen to their stories and stare into their eyes

And these eyes tell me more stories than they know

Though some don’t speak at all they tell me stories, they teach me

And I dare not speak because word, my words fail me

And so I sat, and I stare, and I learn from giants

And he speaks…

He stands 5’8 and a half and all I can see from where I sat is his eyes

He was a solider before puberty and his eyes tell it all, they are unreal

How can a giant so young have eyes that out number both he and I combined in years

And when he speaks…My eyes are open and I see him…no longer invisible

I see him and his words haunt me…

I was a good solider, I was a real good solider he whispers…

And those words vibrate through and through me…

And he sits there, eyes filled with tears that dare not fall

He half smiles and half chuckles, not knowing whether to be sad or proud of his achievements

A conflicting reality I will never understand…

And no one even flinches at these words that I cannot comprehend…

They all sit and stare into worlds I have never seen

Memories flooding them that they try and forget

I look at them and wonder where they are

This place they travel is deeper than I know

A deep that was has been dug by pain and suffering I cannot wrap my mind around

Yet everything in me longs to go to where they are and heal them

These who sit in front of me…though they are just boys

They are giants that my heart yearns to hold and console

To erase their fears and pain…they are giants…they tell me stories…and they teach me