Sitting on the edge of a cliff should be terrifying.
I should fear for my life.
The “things get better” sign
And my crippling fear of water
should be enough to make me turn back, but no.
Something makes me stay.
My legs dangle 500 feet above water
A few rocks are all that prevent me from falling to my death.
My heart jumps into my throat when standing next to a 10 foot pool.
I should hear my heart pounding in my ears
but I don’t.
I only hear the waves crashing below.
Currents beating against jagged rock,
chipping away at the cliff.
Reclaiming earth and furthering its progression inland.
The crushing waves are a constant reminder
of nature’s relentlessness.
But the moss creeping just up the side of those rocks tells a different story.
Intricately laced foliage resist the harsh currents,
algae inching towards the sun,
Seaweed twirling just below the surface.
Underneath the bleak torrents,
there is life, there is beauty.
I am rooted to this cliff side
Watching leaves dance in defiance of the rapids.
Sitting on the edge of a cliff
I am fully aware of how the water would kill me
Swallow me whole without a second thought.
But that fragility is beautiful.
The same fragility as the seaweed as the cattails as the water weeds
That does not yield to the pull of the water.
There is strength in that fragility.