It was her, scrambling out, out.
For her, it was like swimming, corporeal, through primeval fluid. For the onlookers, it was as if a forest had been flattened before their eyes by an invisible explosion. Their puzzlement kept the breath in their stomaches. My pupils were frozen in the motion of a scream.
Still she climbed, out, out. Bits of rocks cascaded down like raindrops, dusting heads below. I couldn't watch, nor could I look away. I saw her feet slip. Cut and bleeding, the stars mourned her poor, aching head. My head too, was aching, and I cradled it in my hands.
On my right hand, a silent gull landed, curling in its nest. My attention, so focused a moment before, was clouded over and held by this silent gull. I studied the windy feathers crowning its regal head. I saw the blue of the ocean pouring from its eyes. I stepped back from the edge, and turned to follow my family.
photo by krista dzialoszynski.