Last of all we pay homage to the children
warm fruits tucked in their beds
where sleep’s thick potions have pickled them tender
mid-wrestle with blankets and teddy bears.
Scrunched, folded, spread in their pyjamas
fingers curled against the night
droplets of breath in the cavernous silence
these are the little sleeping giants.
Terrifying giants
swollen with upset.
Happy giants
chortling in secret corners of their kingdom.
Conquerors of chair legs
lords of dusty raisins
rickety-thumping through the house
they slam slow doors into mountain walls
hurl proclamations down hallways—
songs that bounce and spark in the air.
Hushed so, we almost lose our balance
in the giddy adventure
the drift of sleep
in the softness of little ones
fiercely recharging.
Looking through my archives, I realised I’ve never posted the poems I wrote for the Exchanges poet/artist collaboration I did with Timo Rannali back in 2005. I wrote Land of giants and Timo did the painting below in response. My interpretation of one of his paintings resulted in the poem Angel plays jazz. Thanks to Timo for allowing me to publish my ancient snapshots of his paintings.
