A GIANT ECHOES.

I was meant to be beautiful

an embodiment of Mount Vesuvius

tall

mighty

dangerous in a way that draws eyes

Beauty was my pride

and my accomplice

I was meant to be a trinity divine

spilled into an ancient vineyard

aged in the patience of France

refined on quiet tongues

I was meant to be

what a child tastes for the first time

something whole

something untouched

circling back to purity

without knowing its name

I was meant to lead battalions

across fields of blood

through red grass

and past unmoving boulders

unyielding

certain of direction

But I did not become that

I became quiet instead

not absence

but a softer kind of arrival

I learned the weight of ordinary things

I fussed and became one with light

illuminating with a radiant skin

without asking to be seen

I learned that beauty

does not always announce itself

sometimes it stays

in still rooms

and unfinished thoughts

And still

I remember what I was meant to be

not as loss

but as echo

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