I Am Snow So I Will Fall
Read more poetry by Britt Wolfe
I am snow,
so I will fall.
Not because I am careless,
not because I failed to hold myself together,
but because this is what I am made to do.
You can call it descent
if you need something to fear.
I call it arrival.
I was never meant to cling
to the sky indefinitely,
never meant to perform suspension
for the comfort of those watching.
Snow does not negotiate
with gravity.
It does not apologize
for yielding.
It does not ask
if now is a good time.
It falls
because falling is its form.
I have tried, before,
to be rain—
to rush, to disappear quickly,
to make myself useful
and gone.
I have tried to be ice—
hard, contained,
unmoved by pressure.
But I am snow.
I soften what I touch.
I change the landscape
by being exactly what I am.
I make things quiet enough
to be heard again.
When I fall,
the world looks different.
Edges blur.
Noise dims.
What was frantic
learns stillness.
This is not collapse.
It is permission.
To descend without shame.
To rest where I land.
To stop resisting
the shape of my own becoming.
Snow does not fear the ground.
It trusts the season.
And I am done pretending
I was meant to be anything else.
I am snow.
So I will fall.
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Poetry Anthologies by Britt Wolfe:
