The Fall
A poem by Arah Ko
A poignant truth is shared.

I saved the leaves, plucked them from the sidewalk,
salvation from the rubber soles of children’s shoes.

Mama said they were beautiful, all webbed and veined,
crimson, as if blood pumped through them still

but yesterday I found them shriveled, paper thin and
winter dry, brown, crackling around the edges.

I cried, cradled them in the nest of my fingers,
laid them before the altar of my mother’s feet.

“Oh darling,” she said, plucking me from the floor,
rocking me in a chair as old as I was, “Nothing lives forever.”

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Copyright 2016 Arah Ko

Arah Ko is a rising junior at Wheaton College, but she hails originally from Hawai‘i. Her work has appeared in Kodon, The Pub, Sub-Creation Journal, Teen Ink, BRICKrhetoric, Crashtest, and the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards. When not writing, she can be found explaining her name pronunciation to coffee shop baristas, frequenting open mic nights, and searching for the meaning of life, other than 42.