Fall

Within the thunder of the waterfall, I am the rocks within.

Victoria Falls, Seongo or Chongwe, “The Place of the Rainbow.”

Pummeled by liquid, pounded by gravity, 

I depend on rain, on the breeze, on the rush of a red-necked falcon’s wings.

Prisms of mist lift from great sheets of water jumping over the edge

5,600 feet down, look up to the decades rushing into the present.

Funny how something so soft dropped high enough, fast enough

batters a rock and like a paper bark tree I grow smooth and I bend.

I am pliant, like clay.

I learn everyday.

—Emily Romano