In the hills in Southeast Asia, there is a waterfall
It is not gigantic, nor especially tall,
But it has beauty, like no other
Given by the bones of an old tiger mother.
Bones in the plunge pool, buried long ago
By monks in robes, careful and slow.
Bones of a goddess, colossal and fierce,
Beautiful, strong, with eyes that pierce.
God that died in a war of gods
Struck down by the god of war’s bamboo rods.
What little magic is left in the bones
Gives the waterfall and its smoothed-out stones
A verdant green glow, vivid and alive,
The plants all around cannot but thrive.