A Giant

Long ago,
a giant

somehow
fell out of me.

I don’t have
a face or name
to give you,
but can say
the space inside me
where the giant was 
is specific,
individual, 
and huge.

I can sense
a being in the world,
a being I should have been,
moving 
in a manner as vast

and expansive 
as the planet.

Inside me
where the giant

was born and raised
there is only
a void with an echo
of my own small voice.

I’ve done pretty well
as a shell, I must admit;
have moved the earth
in my own small way,
left footprints,
made some noise,
been a small presence 
nearby and faraway.

That knowledge, though — 

that deep knowledge
that something
dropped out of me
long ago: a void inside
shaped like a larger,
stronger version of me
that I never had
a chance to become;

that knowledge
is a near-fatal wisdom,
a numbing poison
shaped like regret,

a giant named regret.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

3 responses to “A Giant

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