The Mountains Are On Fire

6.18.20

The mountains are on fire
and I think, if I would read that
out of context, I would think them
engulfed
all at once
like a matchhead

But it’s not like that and I doubt
it ever has been, not since there have been trees
and things that live in them

No

It’s much more peaceful from this distance
It’s like living calligraphy
slowly rolling over the rocky page

And I know the ink is death
and far from wet

But I read into it
as I would read into any text
and what I find there (in myself)
is a call to being
written in a language 
which I cannot translate

and, like the flame itself,
which I cannot grasp