I came from another part of the world
to see Niagara as a tourist.
But Niagara does not feel unfamiliar.
It feels like something I have already known
without being able to explain where.
A child is running near the edge of sight,
not looking at the Falls for long.
He is more interested in his brother,
in the way they keep running
as if the ground belongs to them.
No one tells them to stop.
They just keep moving
as children do
when something larger is nearby
but not more important than play.
I stand there longer than I expected.
At one point, a sudden gust of wind
pushes the mist into my face.
For a second, I cannot see the Falls at all.
Only water in the air.
Only breath becoming wet.
Then it clears again,
and nothing has changed.
I lower my phone without meaning to.
I do not take the picture I was about to take.
I notice a piece of driftwood
caught in the metal of a railing,
held there as the water keeps pulling below—
a quiet struggle between structure and force
that does not end either way.
For a moment, I find myself looking
for something that looks like damage—
a pause, a weakness, a break in the rush—
but everything holds too firmly,
even in motion.
The ground hums beneath my shoes,
a low pressure I feel more than hear,
as if the earth is carrying something
too large to explain in stillness.
The water does not change
because I am watching it.
It keeps falling
as if it has been doing this
long before anyone arrived
to name it.
People take pictures
and then leave slowly.
Some look back once,
as if checking whether it is still there.
It is.
It does not move closer.
It does not move away.
Niagara does not feel like a place I am visiting.
It feels like something
that has been present in me
without asking permission.
Not a mother.
Not a symbol.
Just something steady
that lets everything else move freely
around it.
I walk back toward the parking lot,
my phone still dark in my pocket,
carrying the cold, wet weight of the air
that will eventually dry
but never leave.
Source: Kunal Sharma, 2026.
Kunal Sharma is a poet from Delhi, India. He explores memory, travel, and the emotional presence of landscapes in his writing.
This poem won an Honourable Mention in the Niagara Falls Poetry Project 25th Anniversary Poetry Competition. It will be published with all the other entrants in a print anthology to be published by Phylum Press. To reserve a copy of the anthology please email aporteus@niagarapoetry.ca