[they're in their lord of the flies bag]

"the one boy's eyes opened to the sky, legswrapped around the rock to keep him alive, afloat, the river running overhim, kissing him just so, his body an interruption in the water, the rushand roar of its call partitioned by the fall dividing it from itself. the other boysperched around him like water nymphs staring off beyond the mountains' dip,where the sun sets."

"the water, a mother: both healing and scolding, both softand gathering pressure at the fall. shallow enough to walk, deep enough to dive, the boysknow her, where to step and where to not, how to say hello, whento let her sleep. their big toes scraping into the moss, curling to hold them steady, fingernailsfinding the hook between roots to anchor, to pull their bodies upwards. the coquís coquíing their song.the sun winking its set."

"alhamdullilah, to know landso well, you can play with it. to never second guess where your foot lands, how to get your bodywhere it wants to go. to be so fromed, you from. alhamdullilah, to cradle the fall and not fall.to hear the river's rush and feel safety. wild. the boys. in their lord of the flies bag. yes,the boys, there, on top of the waterfall. pulling crumbs of leaves out of each other's hair. the boys:wild, but not lost. the boys, wild and belonged."

Boys sit atop and within a waterfall, physically entwined with rock and water. One boy clings with legs wrapped, eyes open to the sky, while others perch like water nymphs facing the sunset. The river is described as a mother: both gentle and stern, shallow enough to walk yet deep enough to dive. The boys know where to step, anchoring toes and fingernails into moss and roots. Coquís sing and the sun sets; everything is green and safe. The boys wear a lord-of-the-flies bag yet remain wild, belonged, and intimately at home in the land.

Read at The Nation