They do not fold.
They don’t fret over the wrinkles, or the pain in their soul.
They do not shrink to soothe the fragile.
Giants walk— barefoot on Truth,
With thunder in their throats and lullabies in their palms.
They take up space, not to smother,
but to remind you—there is enough room for all of us to rise.
Heck, the sky never marked your height on the walls,
Nor did the earth, give a number on your weighing scale.
It just inspired you to look up and feel the lightness
and look down and know you are held.
They don’t apologize for being Bright.
They don’t dim their fire so others feel warm.
They burn,
So we remember how light lives.
Giants bend, not break.
They weep with you, not over you.
Their Bigness is not Loud,
it is rooted— in grace, in grit, in the ground of knowing
They are enough.
And they walk with knowing, you are enough.
And in their company, you forget to be small.
You forget to edit your wonder, trim your spirit,
wipe your tear quietly, or tuck in your chuckling joy.
Or,
Apologize for being the Big you.
You remember who you were, who you always were.
before the world asked you to disappear politely.
They see you,
Sometimes long before you see yourself.
Giants
May we find them, may we know them.
May we be them.
